Inferno
by Penguin-sama
Summary: Sequel to Bridges. Torn apart by conflicting emotions, two men of Weiss must struggle between the pull of duty and love.
1. Reunion

This is the sequel of my fic "Bridges." If you have not read it, I doubt this will make much sense.

While this follows the storyline of Gluhen, the plot of the series isn't as important as the relationships of the characters. Many points for the Gluhen plot will be only mentioned in passing, as they are unimportant, for the most part. Any changes were made on purpose.

Warnings: This fic is darker than the first, and painful. Just keep in mind that the story isn't over yet. In addition, there seems to be a trend toward more vulgar language, as well as violence. Of course, as always, there is yaoi.

* * *

Rain beat down in angry torrents from a sky painted a dull and flat gray. Cigarette smoke billowed lazily under a cheap umbrella.

Low-slung leather pants were tight enough to have been poured onto the slender form that sauntered down the street, the darkness of the pants fully emphasizing the dramatic jut of slim, angular hip bones andthe smooth plane of a flat belly exposed by a midriff-bearing top. Short golden hair curled atop his head, bringing attention to a face that could have belonged to Adonis himself.

The man walked with the swaying grace of a stalking feline, exuding sexuality with the same ease with which he blinked or drew breath. So natural was it that he didn't seem to notice the heads of those few on the street turning toward him – the bike messenger who nearly pulled out into traffic, the high society ladies who stared at him through the windows of their favorite brunch-time café.

If anyone had bothered to look past the strong, well-toned chest, the smooth, bronzed skin, and the gently erotic sway of those angular hips, they would have noticed his eyes, and all lustful thoughts would have flown away.

Those eyes, a dark and deep green like the finest of emeralds, held a look which no normal person would have ever associated with sex.

As the body sauntered down the street like a walking advertisement for a wet dream, as a golden hand languidly drew a cigarette up to sensuous lips, the eyes stared out of that perfect face like caged animals.

Like an animal, there was little logic to the emotions that played through those windows of green glass, a new nuance shown with every slight change in the light.

Fear and anger, hatred and hope.

Loathing and vulnerability.

If anyone bothered to look close enough, even the greatest of fools would realize he was looking at a man perched on the brink.

A man who had been broken by life and circumstance and was blindly searching for a way to end the pain.

Reaching his destination at last, the man took one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it down. He collapsed his umbrella and left it sitting by the door as he entered the little restaurant.

He found the one he was supposed to meet quickly enough, eyes catching the vibrant flash of red in a corner booth near a window.

Ignoring the two-cheerful hostess who offered him coffee, the man headed to the waiting table and slid into the seat. He and his companion stared at each other for a long moment before he gave a small, shaking laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said at last. "You're the _last_ person I ever thought I'd see again."

"I'm sorry it's come to this," the redhead answered quietly.

Emerald eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?"

Manx leaned back in her seat, sighing.

"How do you feel about a job, Kudoh?"

* * *

He entered the room, and felt his heart sink low into his belly.

"So, they got to you, too, huh?"

The young man lifted his head from where it had rested atop his arms, displaying eyes that were far more weary than either of them would have previously imagined possible.

"Hi, Yohji," the young man greeted, voice nary much more than a rasp. He blinked at the blonde slowly for a few moments, processing thoughts. "You cut your hair."

Ignoring the comment on his shorn locks, the lanky man pulled out a chair and sat down, straddling it.

"Shit, Ken. You look like hell."

"Eloquent as always, Yohji," a voice said in fond amusement. Omi entered the room, so changed as to be barely recognizable. He was followed by a woman with short, dark hair. "How are you both?" the young man asked with a gentle, familiar smile.

Grumbling under his breath, Ken lowered his head to the table once more.

Omi's eyes shot to Yohji, and the welcoming expression on his face quickly turned to one of scolding as the blonde lit a cigarette.

"I thought you quit," the smaller blonde accused.

Yohji shrugged lightly.

"We all think things," he answered glibly. "Doesn't make it true. For instance, I thought we were all done with this shit – but here we are."

"Re-forming the Weiss." Omi nodded, eyes darkening. "I'm _so_ sorry, guys."

"Life was getting boring, anyway. We gonna start this, or what?"

"I guess he's not coming. Good." Omi took a seat, casting an unreadable smile on his two former teammates. "Before we begin anything binding, are you guys _sure_ you're both willing to do this? To return to a life of killing?"

"Why not?" Yohji gave a flippant shrug, bowing smoke high into the air. Ken only nodded, not bothering to lift his head.

Before Omi could continue, the door opened.

At first the young man who entered the room seemed a complete stranger.

His hair was a dark, deep crimson that hung in a neat braid nearly to his waist. His face would have been lovely if not set into such stern lines of displeasure. His form was small and delicate.

Then Yohji noticed his eyes.

Dark, violet, unreadable.

But he remembered those eyes bright with wicked laughter, or darkened with love and passion, or even wet and glimmering with tears.

Nevertheless, there was no doubt that those cold, almost dead eyes were the same ones he remembered.

"_Gods_," he breathed, standing so quickly that his chair toppled over. "_Aya_?"

Those eyes flickered to him for the briefest of moments, and he almost thought he saw something pass over the man's expression.

Then it was gone, Aya's attention fully on Omi.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

Ice water coursed through Yohji's veins at the sound of that voice. He had never expected…never _dreamed_ to hear that voice go so cold and emotionless again.

"Aya," he whispered. "Aya, what's happened to you?"

So many questions running through his mind and _that_ was the first one to come out of his mouth?

The time, the red haired man didn't so much as glance his way.

"Sit down, Kudoh."

Yohji continued to gape stupidly. Ignoring him completely, Aya pulled out a chair and sat.

"Omi," he asked coolly, "Can we get on with this?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Eh…Yohji?"

He was shaking and terrified and…

What the _hell_ was wrong with him?

Yohji righted his chair and sat back down, fixing his eyes on Aya. Later, he promised himself. There would be ample time to talk to the man later – and Aya would never forgive him if he forced a confrontation in front of the others.

He forced patience on himself, and tried to pretend the man he loved wasn't ignoring him.

* * *

"I've been offered the position my uncle held as Persia." Omi told his friends quietly, taking a deep breath. "I've decided to take it. I…I won't be returning to my position on the team."

He paused, waiting for an explosion.

Either his friends hadn't heard him, or they didn't care as much as he'd thought they would. Ken wouldn't lift his head from the table, Yohji wouldn't take his eyes from Aya, and Aya…

Omi repressed the urge to shudder. The gaze fixed on him was steady and cold and unreadable. It was almost as if nothing human remained living behind those frightening eyes.

"In any case," the youngest Weiss continues unsteadily. "Krittiker has authorized choosing one or two new agents to replace me on the team. Aya, that choice will be mostly up to you. Rex will get you the files as soon as this meeting is over."

"Hn." Aya agreed.

"I don't have any kind of specifics for you at this time, so there's really not all that much left for me to say." Omi continued. "The base of operations will be the old flower shop – any of you who want to live there are welcome to it. You won't have to worry about actually working there, of course, because there are regular employees now, but…"

No change in his friends. Ken's head remained on the table, Yohji continued to stare at Aya.

And Aya continued to glare at Omi.

"Does anyone have any questions?"

"Just one," Aya answered, startling him.

"Okay."

Violet eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

"What the _fuck_ is Kudoh doing here?"

"Excuse me?" the lanky man demanded, rising from his chair once more.

Aya ignored him, eyes like darts pinning Omi to his seat.

"You weren't supposed to call him." the redhead continued, a thin strand of anger seeping into his cold voice.

"He volunteered." Omi answered, embarrassed as his voice actually squeaked a little. He had forgotten how frightening Aya would be.

For the first time since entering the room, Aya really looked at Yohji. Whatever he saw in his former lover's eyes made the blonde's face turn ashen.

He rallied himself quickly enough, however.

"You got a problem with me, babe, you're gonna have to talk to me in private."

"Hn." Aya answered, accepting the challenge.

His gaze returned to Omi.

"Anything else?"

"Can we go now?" Ken demanded.

"All right," Omi decided. "We'll be in contact."

"Fujimiya, if you will follow me, I'll get you the applicants' information that you will need." Rex offered with a smile.

* * *

As Aya made to go with the dark haired woman, Yohji hurried to follow.

Once again, Aya's glare was directed on him, making Yohji's blood run cold. Aya's eyes hadn't looked like that since the original days of Weiss, when all that kept him alive was a thirst for vengeance.

Where was the sweetly vulnerable man who Yohji loved so desperately?

He had been devastated when Aya had left him, almost three years ago. The flowers Aya had left had given him hope, but as time had passed without word from the man he loved, that hope had slowly begun to die.

He'd put all of his recourses, all of his expertise as a PI, into trying to find his lover – with no success.

Aya had not left him willingly – Yohji had no doubt about that. Slowly, however, he had begun to lose the hope of ever seeing him again.

After a year without even a hint to his whereabouts, the depression had nearly consumed him. Yohji had been filled with a loathing for himself, and his inability to find the one he cherished.

When Manx had come around trying to re-recruit him into Weiss, he had known immediately that _that_ was the reason Aya had left him. Yohji had sworn to protect the man but Aya, ever the stubborn one, hadn't allowed him to.

Self-loathing had slowly begun to consume him. He had found himself smoking again, drinking more – despite the harm he knew he was doing to himself. He would have begun sleeping around again, but sober he couldn't bear the thought of touching anyone but Aya, and drunk he couldn't stop talking about the man for long enough for anything to happen.

Yohji had at last succumbed to Krittiker's advances, hoping that by doing so he would one day be able to find Aya again.

It seemed to have worked.

"This isn't a task which involved two people, Kudoh." the redhaired man informed him in a voice of ice.

"I follow you until we get to talk." Yohji answered unflinchingly.

Aya made an irritated noise and turned away. For a moment Yohji thought some trace of emotion had passed through his former lover's eyes, but it had been too quick to catch.

Aya ignored Yohji after that, following the woman Omi had referred to as Rex down the corridor and into an office.

"You can look at them here, or you can take them with you," the woman said, placing a box of files into the arms of the Weiss leader. "We would like a decision by the end of the month though. Otherwise, there's no rush."

"Thank you." Aya nodded.

Rex glanced back at the waiting Yohji, hesitating only a moment before leaving. She was nice enough to close the door after herself, leaving the two in complete privacy.

"Aya," Yohji whispered once they were alone.

The man closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say my name that way."

Yohji moved forward before anything could stop him, taking Aya into his arms. With a small gasp, the long haired man dropped the box he held and Yohji pulled him closer, their bodies melding together in one smooth, perfect line.

"Aya," he whispered again. "Oh, _Aya_."

He caught a whiff of his shampoo, and suddenly he was transported back in time. Back to nights spent in each others arms – late movies and too much takeout. Laughter and teasing and smiles and tears.

"Aya…"

"I'm so sorry, Yohji."

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this."

Aya drew back, and the ice had left his eyes, replaced by wetness.

"You have to understand, Yohji," he whispered. "It can't be the same. Nothing can be the same ever again."

"Aya…"

"I'll never escape Krittiker, Yohji," he whispered. "They own me completely…can you even begin to fathom how much worse their hold over me would grow if…we can't be together, Yohji. Not like we were. Not with Krittker involved."

"Don't talk like that." Yohji drew the smaller man as close to him as he could, nuzzling his neck – taking in the warm, familiar scent of him. "You're back. I don't care why you left or what Krittiker would think; all that matters is that you're back in my life."

"Whatever we could have now would pale in comparison with our past."

"I don't care. I don't give a shit about _anything_."

"You don't know what you're saying, Yohji."

"I'm asking you to be with me, Aya. Don't you want to be with me?"

Silence was his only answer. Yohji smiled to himself, closing his eyes.

"It'll be fun sneaking around," he promised quietly. "As long as we're alone, I don't see why everything can't be the same."

Abruptly, Aya pushed violently away.

He was once more the frightening, unapproachable man he had been so long ago. Yohji had learned that that man was nothing more than an illusion. A wall.

But that wall was firmly in place once more, so strongly that Yohji suddenly doubted he knew how to scale it.

"No." Aya said firmly.

"No?"

"I don't want to sneak around with you."

"Aya, love…"

"I don't want to be with you, Yohji." Aya picked up the box of files once more, using it as a physical barrier between them. "If you can't accept that, then our friendship, too is over."

"You can't honestly believe that, bunny thon - !"

Aya shoved the box into Yohji's chest hard enough to make him grunt.

"_Never_," the smaller man hissed fiercely, "Call me that again!"

* * *

To Be Continued 


	2. Fool

If things were easy, they wouldn't be worth writing – or reading – about. If you wanted it to be sweet and fluffy all the time, then feel free to write your own story. I'm not saying it to be mean, honest; I'm honored that anyone is even looking at this. But I do feel the need to warn that: 1. There will be angst and 2. Aya is a stubborn bastard.

That being said, and with the high hopes that I haven't offended and/or alienated anyone, on with the fic.

Damn you, Bob!

* * *

The little shop seemed no different than it had been in the old days, save a few minor changes. The aprons were now all pink, reflecting the change to an all-female staff. The cash register and freezers were all more modern. There was a sale on zinnias.

"Shit," Yohji said for them all, lighting a cigarette.

Ken had chosen to move into his old room upstairs, but once Yohji discovered that Aya would not be living there too, he decided to stay at his current residence. The story to the girls now working in the koneko would be that Ken had bought it and opened the rooms to renters. The new team members they chose would be required to live there under his supervision – on Aya's orders.

"No time for memories," Aya grunted gruffly. "Come."

"I'd follow you anywhere, honey pants."

Aya ignored Yohji as if he had ceased to exist. It had developed as his new tactic for dealing with the blonde on the car ride over when he had learned that, no matter how fierce his glare, Yohji had no intention to stop touching and hitting on him.

Giving Yohji an annoyed look, Ken hoisted the box of files and followed Aya through the shop and down into the basement.

"What the hell's your problem lately, KenKen?" Yohji demanded, tramping down the stairs after his teammates.

At the bottom of the stairs, Aya stopped to turn his glare on both men.

"No fighting," he ordered sternly. "We're here to work – and I sure as _fuck_ don't want to be stuck here all night."

"Fine," Ken agreed with a halfhearted shrug, brushing past.

Aya remained where he was, glaring at Yohji, and the blonde felt a flash of anger.

"What, you got plans tonight?" he demanded nastily. He watched his former lover's eyes widen slightly, watched his lovely skin grow even paler than usual. "Is this how it's gonna be between us from now on? You gonna ignore me – pretend I don't exist – until it's time to play all-powerful leader and fucking give me orders?"

Aya flinched, but Yohji couldn't stop himself once he had started.

"I _love_ you, Aya. And you love me. I don't care if its been three years or thirty, _you love me!_"

"No," Aya answered, meeting his eyes. Neither his gaze nor his voice wavered. "I don't."

"How long are you two going to be at it?" Ken called crossly. "I don't want to be here all fucking night, either."

Aya and Yohji remained as they were, glaring at each other – love and pain and anger like miles of ocean between them.

Aya was the first to break eye-contact, turning and continuing into the basement.

"Why are you doing this, Aya?" Yohji called, heartbroken and lost.

Aya paused, but did not look at him.

"If you can't be more professional, Kudoh, I will request your removal from this team," he said at last. "I didn't want you here in the first place."

"Aya…"

"Let it _drop_, Kudoh." Ken demanded from where he had sat down.

"Why don't you stay the fuck out of it, Hidaka?"

"Let – it – drop."

"Do what he says, Kudoh," Aya ordered, "Or you'll never see Weiss again. Ken? Stay the _fuck_ out of it."

He waited. Silence reigned.

"Good," Aya said at last, nodding firmly and heading for the sitting area. "Then lets get to work."

* * *

"Damn this place feels empty without Omi." Yohji sighed, tossing down his pen. He rose and stretched, working out cramped back muscles. They had been reviewing the applicant files for three hours straight and had yet to have made any kind of progress. "I keep expecting the chibi to come down the stairs with a tray full of goodies and an ingenious suggestion to make this all easier."

"Hn." Aya grunted, not looking up from the file he was looking at. "This one has army experience." he stated as if he had not heard Yohji.

Curled up in an armchair, idly toying with the end of his braid as a delicate frown creased his brow, Aya looked far too adorable for words. Yohji had to fight the urge to molest him.

Old habits die hard.

Whatever was wrong with Aya, he was still the same man Yohji had worshiped so ardently. Somewhere hiding behind those scowls and glares hid the man he loved with every fiber of his soul.

Pretending that three years apart couldn't have changed anything between them had been a mistake. Yohji knew his love better than that. If anything, just the fact that he'd had to go so long without a reminder that someone loved him could explain why the man had closed off so much.

Getting Aya back to where he had been before he left would take patience and work. Yohji should have realized that. After all, it had taken those very things to catch the man in the first place.

"Would I be accused of slacking off if I offered to go and get refreshments?"

Silence a moment.

Then:

"Go," Aya ordered. "I want - "

"I got it, babe. I think I remember what you like."

He left before Aya could comment.

The refrigerator upstairs was empty, of course. No one had used the entire back of the building in years. Yohji grabbed his jacket and set himself to walk to the little all-night take out place that had been a favorite of the Weiss boys.

* * *

"When did you start needing reading glasses?" Yohji asked.

Ken and Aya had agreed to take a break when the blonde had returned with the food. The three men had been eating in a peaceful silence for several minutes now – long enough that Yohji thought it was safe to attempt a conversation.

Aya looked at him warily and Yohji gave a gentle smile, hoping to appear sincere and innocent.

"No tricks, love," he said quietly.

Aya looked away, poking at his food.

"I've needed them since middle school…I just don't like to bother with them." the redhead answered at last. "It gives me a headache to work without them, though, and I knew it was going to be a long night."

"I like them. You look cute – if I'm allowed to say that without being accused of trying to get into your pants again."

Aya only snorted.

"Look," a yawn cracked Yohji's jaw, and he offered his teammates a silly grin. "It's getting really late and we haven't been able to agree on anyone."

"I'm _not_ coming back tomorrow, Kudoh." Aya stated without looking up.

"Well then, let's just pick someone at random," the blonde suggested. "They're all Krittiker agents, right? So we're assured that they all got skills that'll be useful to us. So let's pick somebody."

"Miyo's dead."

Yohji blinked, turning his eyes on Ken in surprise.

"Huh?"

"Miyoko. She's dead."

Yohji wracked his brain a moment and suddenly remembered the bright and cheerful girl Ken had been dating three years ago. They had been pretty serious, if Yohji remembered correctly.

After Aya had left, Yohji had refused to see either Ken or Omi. He vaguely remembered receiving a wedding invitation about a year ago though.

"I'm…sorry, man."

"It wasn't even a month ago." the dark haired assassin said quietly. "She was at the grocery store and there were some…people, I don't know, gang members or something…they were tracking a witness, the police think. A gunfight broke out…a gunfight, because there was no more Weiss to keep the city clean."

"That's why you agreed to come back?" Aya asked quietly, concern for his friend breaking the ice in his voice.

"She was pregnant."

"I'm sorry," Yohji offered again.

Ken looked up at last, eyes a burning glare directed solely at the blonde.

"The world needs people like us – the world needs Weiss. No slacking off, Kudoh."

"Okay," he agreed quietly. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Ken glared a moment more, unshed tears making his dark eyes gleam.

Then, just as quickly, he lowered his head to his work once again.

"I'm _sorry_." Yohji said again.

Aya shook his head. His eyes remained unreadable as he turned his attention back to the file he was reading.

"Shit," Yohji murmured quietly, sliding down to sit on the floor and reaching for a file.

If Ken needed a direction for his anger, then that was fine. But he didn't need to use it to make Yohji feel worthless.

He felt enough of that on his own.

Yohji banished that train of thought quickly. Worrying about Ken was low on his list of priorities.

All that mattered was Aya. All that mattered was finding out what was wrong with the man and fixing it.

All that mattered was getting his lover back.

Glancing at the stern-faced redhead, Yohji had the sinking feeling that the task would be harder than anticipated.

* * *

"Thank you, Yohji." Aya stated quietly as the two men went up the stairs on their way out. It was nearly four in the morning, and Aya had at last ceded the need to stop for a while and get some sleep.

Ken was going to stay, and would probably continue looking at those damned files until he passed out from exhaustion, but Yohji didn't feel bad about quitting "early" if Aya was quitting, too.

"For what?" he asked, missing a step. He'd thought for sure that Aya wouldn't be willing to speak to him if they were alone.

The man glanced at him, eyes dark and unreadable.

"For behaving yourself."

"Around you or Ken?"

"Either. Both."

"I'm not finished with you yet, love."

"It's too early in the morning for that, Kudoh. Don't. Start."

"I wasn't planning anything, honestly." Despite himself, Yohji reached for his lover, managing to brush his fingers across his cheek before the other man jerked away. Yohji let his hand drop, smiling. "I just thought it fair to warn you that I'm not planning on giving up any time soon."

"You're a fool then."

"A fool whostill loves you, then."

Aya shook his head, turning away.

Yohji quickly lashed out and grabbed his hand.

"Not even an explanation, love?" he demanded,desperation breaking though the barriers and seeping into his voice at last. "You leave without a word and come back hating me - !"

"I don't hate you, Yohji."

"Don't I at least deserve to know _why_ you ruined everything?"

"You do deserve it." Aya answered in a whisper. "That doesn't mean I can give it to you."

Yohji brought the pale man's hand up to his lips, kissing it gently as he drew near. He caught and held Aya's eyes, saw the pain swimming there, and came even closer.

"You still love me," he stated gently, pressing the smaller man against the wall. "You still want me."

"_Don't_, Yohji."

The blonde gave a quiet laugh, pressing Aya's hand to his cheek and holding it there, even as he continued to hold his eyes.

"You know," he murmured quietly, "I meant it when I said those glasses were cute."

"My sister would tease me about them."

"Heathen!" Yohji pressed closer, felt his lips brush Aya's with an electrifying jolt that felt like _home_. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss desperately, sliding his knee between Aya's legs.

It lasted only a moment longer before Aya shoved him violently away. Yohji flew back, crashing into the opposite wall of the stairwell. The handrail bit painfully into his back and he slipped down a few steps before managing to gain himself enough balance to prevent a broken neck.

He stared up at Aya, and for a moment, the man appeared pale and frightened and worried.

As he watched though, the spark of humanity left those lovely eyes. That pretty face turned cold.

"Don't touch me again," he ordered in the voice of Abyssinian.

The long haired man glared at him a moment longer and Yohji could only gape at him in surprise and pain. At last Aya nodded firmly, assured he had gotten his point across, and turned to leave.

"Still love me now, Yohji?" he asked softly.

He left before the blonde could answer.

* * *

To Be Continued

**Response to Unsigned Reviews**:

**Kirai** - I'm sorry! But I have to follow the rules, so the hair had to be cut. As for Aya...he thinks he has his reasons.

**Acesha** - Thanks; I'm glad you think so...I kind of think Inferno just reads like more chapters of B though. Angsty chapters, but chapters nontheless.

All right, thanks everyone! Hope to see you next time.


	3. Mission

What? You mean I have to update? _Again_? Sigh…

I now have some of my artwork for my fics scanned into the computer. Nothing fancy, and nothing very good, but if you're bored and/or curious and you want to see my fanart, the links can be found in my livejournal or in my profile. Please be kind if you decide to look at them!

Another painful chapter. They're all going to be painful, but this one was one of the most difficult to write. (Snuggles the boys and promises to make it all up to them one day.)

* * *

Yohji came to an abrupt stop as he came through the kitchen door and found an unfamiliar man sitting at the table.

The man was broad and muscular, with a shock of short black hair. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"Who the hell are you?" Yohji demanded, setting the box of doughnuts he carried on the kitchen table.

Somehow Krittiker had discovered that Yohji had "fallen down the stairs," and they had insisted that he see a doctor, much to his annoyance. For the past three days, he hadn't been able to work, even just looking over files. He hadn't been "allowed" to, on "Persia's" orders, because they didn't want him to take the "risk" of damaging his back.

Yohji, to put it bluntly, was more than pissed. He had no doubt in his mind that Aya had been the one to sic the doctors on him, as well as the orders to "stay home to rest and heal up."

If Aya wanted to play dirty, Yohji could sure as hell play dirty.

The stranger at the table blinked at him a moment.

"You must be Kudoh," he said at last.

A surge of irritation filled the blonde. He hadn't been in a good mood to begin with.

"Yeah, I am. Now, let's try this again. Who. The hell. Are you?"

"I…"

"Kudoh." Aya entered the room, several thick folders under his arm. "Why aren't you at home? You're injured and should be resting."

Not for a moment did the blonde believe his former lover was acting out of concern for his welfare.

"How long were you planning to keep me drugged on pain meds, love?"

"Depends," he shot. "How long were you planning on being a pain in the ass?"

"Your ass? Indefinitely."

Aya glared.

"If you're here, then you might as well work," the smaller man snarled at last. "Rex is in the basement. Go talk to her."

"Why the hell should I? I think I'd rather talk to you?"

Was that a flinch?

Yes, Aya was most definitely responsible for Yohji's recent "sick leave."

"The mission has been pushed up in Krittiker's priorities." Aya stated at last, brushing past to take a seat at the table next to the stranger. "Persia wants us to start earlier than we'd planned. Rex has the specifics – if you want to be included in this mission, then you have to go and talk to her."

Yohji glared, but Aya seemed perfectly content to ignore him as he turned his attention back to the stranger at the table.

Yohji had barely glanced through the mission file Rex gave him before he was storming back up the stairs and into the kitchen.

"What the _hell_ is this?" he demanded, waving the briefing at the smaller man.

Aya's eyes remained impassive.

"Aguri, can you give us a moment in private?" he requested of the tall stranger sitting beside him. The man took one look at Yohji's fury-filled face and made his retreat without argument.

"And who the hell is he, anyway?"

"Kyo Aguri. One of the agents Hidaka and I chose to replace Omi."

"You made the decision without me?"

"It was more than easy without you arguing at every opportunity."

Yohji chose to ignore the purposefully insulting comment, knowing that Aya was just trying to distract him with a different fight.

"What do you mean 'one of'?" he asked instead.

"To compromise, Hidaka and I each chose one agent to join the team. The other will be arriving in an hour, as soon as his class lets out."

The choice to argue over the decision being made without him was tempting, but there were more important matters currently at hand.

Scowling, Yohji pulled out a chair and sat down across from his former lover.

"I'm _not_ going to Europe."

Aya met his eyes without flinching.

"No?" he questioned.

"This is just an excuse to get rid of me!" he challenged. "You're too much of a coward to face me and try to work this out because you know you still love me! Aya - !"

The red haired man refused to rise to the bait.

"The team met yesterday and agreed that you and Ken would be best suited to this aspect of the mission. You weren't here to object."

"You made sure I _wouldn't_ be here!"

A slight shrug.

"Nevertheless…"

"Did you _read_ the specs, Aya? Do you have _any_ idea of what Om…sorry, _Persia_ wants me to do?"

Aya's face might very well have been carved from stone.

"I am aware of what is being asked of you. I'm also aware that this isn't anything you haven't done before."

"Aya…"

"You honestly expect me to believe that you're suddenly unwilling to fuck someone for information?"

"_Yes!_" Yohji exploded. "Yes, that is _exactly_ what I'm saying! Aya, there's nothing 'suddenly' about it! You're the only one I ever want to touch again!"

"You will follow orders, Kudoh." Aya stated, eyes frozen and merciless. "You will follow orders or you will leave the Weiss forever."

"Aya…" Staring at him, Yohji had a sudden flash of insight. Aya _wanted_ him to refuse the mission. Aya wanted him to leave Weiss.

Yohji scowled.

"Fine," he agreed at last. "I'll go. I'll do my mission."

He rose, receiving a cruel thrill of satisfaction as Aya's eyes darkened with a momentary flash of pain. He leaned down until his face was mere inches from that of the man he loved.

"I'll go, and I'll do my job," he whispered, "And every night as you go to sleep, you can remember that I'm holding someone else in my arms – and that you're the one who put me there."

Pain flashed through Aya's eyes, and his beautiful skin grew pale.

"When are you going to learn that I don't care anymore, Kudoh?"

"When are you going to learn that you're a terrible liar, _Aya_?" Yohji countered. He leaned in for a quick kiss, pulling away before Aya had the chance to become violent. "This is all _you're_ fault, love."

He turned and left.

He was not there to see it when Aya put his head down on the table. He did not hear his quiet, pained sob.

He never knew how long it took that small body to stop shaking without anyone to hold it.

* * *

"_Damn it!_" Yohji cursed, hanging up his cell phone and glaring at it.

Seventeen tries, and still no luck.

"I told you he wouldn't answer."

Startled, Yohji glanced at his companion.

With his eyes closed and his ears covered in headphones, Ken looked as if he had fallen asleep. Yohji'd thought he had.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Kenken?" he snapped nastily, dialing the number once more.

"Fine." Ken agreed, shifting in his seat. "But that's not the way to get him back."

"I suppose you're the expert on him now, then?" he demanded, putting the cell to his ear. One ring. Two.

"I'm not an expert on anything," the brunette answered, bitterness in his voice. "But it only takes a _little_ common sense to figure out how_ not_ to piss off Aya."

Six rings. Seven.

Eight.

_Nine_.

"Damn it!"

Moving suddenly, Ken snatched the phone away and turned it off, stuffing it into his bag.

Yohji smacked him in the back of the head.

"Give it back, ass-hair!"

Removing his headphones, Ken turned in his seat to glare more fully at his companion.

"I told you to bring something to entertain yourself, but you didn't listen. I'm not going to put up with this shit from you just because our flight was delayed!"

"I just - !"

"Look! I don't know what happened between the two of you. I don't _want_ to know." Turning in his chair, Ken crossed his arms firmly across his chest. "I'm sure that bugging the hell out of the man isn't the way to get him back though."

"You don't understand." Yohji said with a sigh. "I said some things…I have to apologize before I leave."

"He still loves you, Yohji."

The blonde snorted.

"Thanks, but you're the last person I want a pep talk from."

"I don't want to give you a pep talk, Yohji; I want you to stop being irritating!" the athlete sighed.

"Gee, thanks a lot. _Really_."

"It is true though. He loves you. Whatever his reasons for the way he's acting, they're tearing him apart." Ken gave an uncomfortable shrug. "His eyes follow you whenever you're not watching. And sometimes, when he thinks he's alone, his mask…crumbles…and he looks so…so sad."

Yohji began to smile, but quickly pushed the thought away, thumping Ken.

"Don't say shit like that to me before a mission, man!"

"I'm trying to make you feel better, you ass!"

"Well, you suck at it, don't you?" he exploded.

They had been ordered to gather information on Essett's European branch "by whatever means necessary."

For Yohji, that meant seduction.

How the hell was he supposed to do his job with Ken's words ringing in his ears?

Ken remembered the specifics of Yohji's part of the mission a little too late.

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly, ducking his head. "I thought it would help."

"Whatever, man."

They didn't speak again until their plane arrived, three hours later.

* * *

Unnoticed near a potted plant by the windows, a young man watched the blonde and the brunette, a painful pressure around his heart.

His eyes caressed the form of the lanky blonde as the man joined the line of people getting ready to board the plane, gaze lovingly tracing every familiar, deliciously sharp angle. He missed the longer hair the man had once sported, missed the feel of it as if brushed against his skin.

Yet even with his achingly shorn locks, the man was still achingly beautiful. Still perfect. Still…_everything_.

Aya watched his teammates board their plane. He watched the plane leave.

He himself was unable to force himself to leave the airport until long after said plane had ceased to be even so much as a dot in the sky.

* * *

A fierce, angry glare, a hand flying downwards to strike his knee hard enough to sting.

"_Stop_ bouncing!" Ken hissed.

"Read your stupid magazine, Kenken; I'm not hurting you."

Another strike, this one, if it was even possible, sharper.

"It's annoying, and I can't concentrate," the younger man insisted. "Don't bounce your knee up and down."

"Gods, I need a drink."

"You're even more irritating drunk than you are sober – and the last thing I need is you trying to fly the airplane."

"Hell, they wouldn't even let me get close enough to try….you think?"

"Yohji!"

The blonde man attempted to give his teammate a smile.

"I'm sorry, Ken," he said sincerely. "I'm bored and I've got a lot of nervous energy built up."

"Go smoke in the bathroom."

"Can't. _'Persia' _threatened to disembowel me if I tried. Something about not wanting to risk an 'international incident' if I was caught."

"Disembowelment might be entertaining," the jock observed, returning to his magazine. "You never know."

Yohji stared at his companion for a few moments, but the dark haired man seemed content to ignore him.

"The least you could do is _try_ to entertain me," he grumbled at last.

Ken stared at the page before him for a few moments, blinked, then slowly closed the magazine. When he looked at Yohji, his face bore an expression the blonde certainly did not like.

"I didn't think it was possible, but now I'm sure it's true." Ken said pleasantly, smile sending fearful shivers down Yohji's spine.

"What?"

"You, Yohji Kudoh, are the most fucking _selfish_ son of a bitch in the _entire world_!" the jock sat back in his seat and crossed his arms, clearly angry.

Yohji blinked.

"Excuse me?" he demanded, voice quiet with the beginnings of anger.

"It's no wonder Aya doesn't want you anymore," the brunette continued angrily, refusing to look at him. "He's a saint for putting up with him for as long as he did!"

"Watch yourself, Kenken."

"You're a diva, Yohji. A complete and utter ass. Everything always has to be about you; if it concerns _anyone_ else, you simply don't have the capacity to care!" Ken looked at him then, eyes burning with fury. "I tried to cheer you up before we left, but all you care about is getting attention for your misery!"

"Did I say anything about my fucking misery? Damn it, Ken, I'm _bored_! What does that have to do with Aya?"

"Everything, with you, has to do with your dick and whoever it's currently drooling after." Ken answered coldly. "That's all that's ever mattered with you. Aya doesn't want you, Yohji! He might still care about you, but he knows that there are more important things – unlike you."

"Ken…"

"You act like this on a mission and you're going to get yourself killed." Ken sat back in his seat again, staring out the window. "And you've pissed me off, but I don't want you dead."

Ken was finished. Yohji couldn't get him to say anything else.

At last, Yohji got up and went to the bathroom.

Crammed in the tight space, Yohji pulled out his phone and dialed the familiar number, letting his head fall back against the wall as it rang and rang and rang.

Yohji gave a start as, on the seventeenth ring, someone picked up.

"You used to love me, didn't you, Aya?" he asked without preamble.

Silence, then…

"Kudoh."

That quiet sigh. So tired, so defeated.

"What changed?" the blonde asked quietly, pleading for an answer. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything…Yohji." the other man answered.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I can't stop."

"Yohji…"

The blonde realized belatedly that he was crying.

"Tell me that you don't love me anymore. Tell me to give up. I can't do this mission if there's still hope."

Silence passed between them for a very long while.

"I want to come home." Yohji whispered. He knew how pathetic he sounded, but didn't care. This was Aya. _His_ Aya. "I want to come home and have you there. I want to hold you, even if it's only one more time. _Aya_…"

"Give up, Yohji," the man ordered at last, voice breaking.

"Aya…"

"Give up." This time, Aya's voice held strength and ice and authority. "Do your mission."

The line went dead.

Yohji crumpled.

* * *

It took a long time before Yohji managed to compose himself, and then the only reason he really tried was because some asshole outside was loudly demanding that he leave the bathroom.

Ken seemed to have fallen asleep by the time the blonde returned to his seat.

Flirting wildly, Yohji got the stewardess to bring him alcohol.

Later, when he was drunk enough, he managed to charm her into meeting him in the bathroom.

The woman was taller than the lover he pictured in his mind, and her kisses were not nearly so sweet. They fucked quickly and messily, not bothering to remove more clothes than strictly necessary.

The stewardess, giggling, slipped out first after they finished.

Yohji cleaned himself up as best he could, and through he tried to avoid it, he ended up looking in the mirror.

Through his eyes, he saw the reflections of his past. The women, the men, the endless, selfish pursuit of physical pleasure.

Only twice had he loved.

And twice he had proven unworthy of that love.

Heat filled him, making him light-headed. His stomach rebelled as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Turning quickly, Yohji violently lost everything he had eaten that day.

* * *

To Be Continued

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**Moon without a Sun** - Sorry. But I did warn you.

**SilencedAya** - hope you enjoyed!

**Kate** - Just remember that there will be another sequel coming.

**CaT70** - There will be a third fic. And it will make up for all the pain in this one, rest assured. But it will bring a...change...in the relationship. Anyway, I'm thrilled with how it's turning out. I hope all of you will like it, too.

**talietim69** - Aw! Thanks so much!


	4. Europe

I finally got to see the end of Gluhen, and I have to tell you something.

I fricken _loved_ it.

I think this may be the first time the grand finale of an anime actually satisfied me. God knows I was disappointed with the end of Weiss, and I so recently had the let down of the final season of YYH….anyway, needless to say, your authoress is in a very good mood today.

From this point onward, parts of the story assume that you, the readers, are at least somewhat familiar with the basic plot points of Gluhen. I'm not going to go into those things in detail, because there's the anime for that, and this is about Yohji and Aya, not Esset and Rosenkruz. If you find yourself lost, however, let me know so I can find you a summery.

* * *

Yohji had never been to Europe.

He and Asuka had always planned to take a backpacking trip someday. They'd kept a large pickle jar in the back of their closet, putting their spare change into it at the end of every day. When the jar was full, they swore that they'd take their trip.

The jar had never been completley filled, though they had come close.

Yohji couldn't remember what had happened to the jar after his lover's death. No doubt he had left it in the back of the closet in their old apartment, a prize for whoever tried to make their own happy memories in that place.

So many plans had never come to fruition. So many hopes were shattered, the broken pieces cutting into his soul like jagged shards of glass.

Strange that he should think of Asuka today. It had been years since he had allowed himself to dwell on the memory of the sweet and cheerful woman he had loved so dearly.

He'd felt peace about her while Aya had been his lover. He loved the man and had been happy with him – what need had him of ghosts and old guilt?

But happiness was a dream too far away to be real. Aya…

If Aya still loved him, he never would have ordered him to fulfill the specs of his mission. True, the orders had been an attempt to force Yohji to leave Weiss, but surely Aya knew him well enough by now to suspect that he would call his bluff.

If Aya still loved him…if the red head cared _anything_ about him at all…he never would have been willing to take the risk.

The last of Yohji's stubborn yet fragile hope had gone up in flames on that airplane.

Snorting softly, the lanky blonde lit a new cigarette from the end of the old, tossing the nub of the first carelessly away.

His heart was an aching wound inside his chest. His emotions were a raw and agonizing pain that filled his entire body.

Yohji could not go cold and forget the way he felt, as Aya seemed to find it so easy to do. All he knew how to do was wallow in his misery, suffering until the drugs or alcohol or sex managed to fog his mind enough for peace.

His sharp eyes picked out the woman he had been waiting for as she turned a corner and began walking down the street toward the small café he currently sat outside of. According to surveillance records, the woman visited the quaint little place every day around this time.

Yohji had been expecting her.

Her hair was a little longer than it had been in the picture he had been given, and he hadn't imagined that she would be quite as tall as those sensible pumps made her appear.

His target.

According to the spies krittiker had set into place, the woman held a high rank within Esset, and possessed at least one of the codes they needed to hack into the main system. She was in her late thirties and a member of many online dating clubs – continuously looking for "true love."

The report he had been given spoke of her as a "lonesome yet hopeful soul" and stated that seducing her should be an easy and quiet way to get what they needed.

It _would_ be easy, Yohji insisted to himself. He would follow orders, exploiting the woman's weakness for handsome men who promised her the moon and the stars. He would win her love as well as the computer codes, and damn the gaping wounds that still marred his own soul.

Hiding himself behind his newspaper, Yohji listened to the clicking of the woman's heels on the sidewalk as she drew near. When he judged the time was right, he rose. The woman, not paying attention, bumped into him.

Purposefully, Yohji allowed his coffee to spill, scalding his hand.

"Oh!" the woman's eyes went wide, her lips parting in surprise. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"No, no; it's completely my fault."

Yohji looked up, allowing his eyes to clash with the woman's as if they were in some cheesy romance flick. He smiled slowly, pretending to be taken aback by her beauty, and watched her face flush.

"Are you sure you're okay?" the woman asked.

"I'm sure it will be." he answered, wrapping a napkin around his hand. "Especially if you would agree to sit with me for a while. I could easily forgive such a pretty lady if she would let me buy her a latte."

He watched her eyes, and knew he had caught her.

Laughing together, they cleaned up the mess at his table, then went to order more coffee. When they came back outside, they found that someone else had taken their table.

The woman seemed disappointed.

"How about a walk in the park instead?" Yohji asked quickly, unwilling to allow the "moment" to be ruined. "A pretty day, a beautiful woman – I would hate to cut this short."

She smiled.

They began to walk.

"I'm Yohji, by the way."

"Michelle."

They smiled at each other.

The park was not far, and in short time they found themselves sitting on a bench near a small man-made lake, Yohji listening to the woman talk about something that had happened last week or year – he wasn't entirely paying attention.

His mind was far away, sitting on a couch in a tidy little apartment, a beautiful little red head held tightly in his arms.

How pale and warm and soft had that skin been, how sweet it had tasted. Crimson hair like silk running through his fingers, violet eyes that looked at him with love and complete, absolute trust...

"Yohji?"

He gave a start, returning to the present with painful speed. Michelle was looking at him, on the verge of annoyance.

Yohji forced a smile.

"I'm sorry; I must have drifted off. Your voice is so soothing to me – I feel like I've known you for years."

She smiled, clearly flattered.

"I'm not usually so forward," Yohji lied, "But, do you think I could get your number?"

And then she was searching through her purse for some paper.

Yohji took the time to compose himself.

His time with Aya had been far too real, too perfect. He still didn't want to believe that it was over, despite the man's rejection of him. He was going to have to force himself to remember that what he had was gone. There must still be the ghost of hope hiding somewhere within him – he had to expel it, that was all.

* * *

As predicted, it was only a short matter of time before Yohji had Michelle completely and utterly in love with him.

She had pretended at some modesty – it was their fifth date before Yohji earned himself an invitation to her apartment.

She wasn't very good in bed – though Yohji had no doubt he wouldn't have enjoyed it even if she had been. Memories of Aya continued to torment him, while meanwhile he could almost swear that if he turned he would find the ghost of his precious Asuka standing beside him, gazing at him in disappointment.

He could almost hear what she would say to him.

After all, he had always believed that she had sent him Aya with her blessings because she wanted him to be happy. Now he wasn't with Aya. Now he wasn't happy.

"How stupid can you be?" the ghost would demand to know. "How could you give him up so easily? When in hell has rejection ever stopped you before?"

He hadn't fought hard enough for Aya, and now he was imagining conversations with ghosts.

Yohji feared his mind was beginning to unravel.

He wished it would hurry the fuck up.

When Michelle fell asleep, Yohji's real work began. He rose from the sweaty sheets of her bed and dressed himself, unwilling to bear the thought of wondering her apartment nude.

After two hours of rifling through Michelle's personal belongings without luck, Yohji knew that he was pushing his luck. If the woman were to wake and catch him, there would be trouble, and the longer he took, the greater the risk.

He would fulfill his mission, though, damn it. If he was going to suffer so badly, then he might as well get something for it.

Where would she keep the codes though?

Rummaging through her bookcases, Yohji was growing more and more desperate.

Michelle was not the type to have the codes memorized, he was certain of it. Besides, he wasn't certain that even he was skilled enough to convince her to _tell_ him the secrets of Esset – at least not without a couple years more time.

Yohji found a set of binders, but all they held were bank statements. Anyway, Michelle wouldn't keep the codes somewhere so obvious. She would want to keep them near her – would need to, in fact, so…

Inspiration struck.

Careful not to wake the slumbering woman, Yohji slipped back into the bedroom and grabbed the purse that Michelle had dropped to the floor during their lustful embrace.

Using the light from the bathroom, Yohji searched through the purse until he found a small address book.

There, on the last page, printed neatly and clearly, was a number.

Elated, Yohji memorized the number, put everything back just the way he'd found it, and left without saying goodbye.

* * *

The ringing of the phone brought his mind out of the deep thoughts it had been steeped in for the last two hours. Before him on his desk was a piece of paper covered in writing. Unfinished words, half-formed thoughts, the jumble of characters would make no sense to anyone who happened to glance down at the page.

To Omi Tsukiyono, however, the mess made perfect sense.

To the young man, the jumble before him was a clear-cut map of his plans and progress, ideas and schemes. The paper was really nothing more than a tool for marking on while he thought – bringing the abstracts in his mind into the full light of day.

The phone rang a third time and he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"I've got it."

"Yotan." Omi breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't heard from Ken or Yohji since they had left for Europe – it was good to hear from one of them.

Even better, a part of Omi's mind decided, to know that they were making some progress on their mission.

Omi swiveled in his chair to reach his computer, bringing up the screen to Esset's database he had hacked before sending his former teammates to the European branch of Esset.

A box popped up, prompting him for a password before it would allow him to go any further.

"Okay, Yohji."

Quietly, the man relayed the code to him. He sounded tired. Glancing at the clock, the young man wondered how early it was over there.

Almost immediately, plans popped up on the screen. Data, floorplans, diagrams.

"This is wonderful, Yohji!" he exclaimed. "Wonderful job!"

"Why did you send me on this mission, Omi?" the blonde man asked, voice a rasp.

Feeling startled, Omi sat back in his chair.

"Yohji?"

"Why was _I_ the one you asked to do this?"

"What's wrong, Yohji?" Omi asked, concerned, as he finally realized just how badhis former teammatesounded. "You always enjoyed this kind of mission before."

A quiet, bitter laugh.

"So the 'Yohji is a whore' theory strikes again to bite me in the ass."

Omi swallowed, suddenly feeling fear and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Yohji…I thought you'd appreciate the excuse to be away from Aya for a while." the young man said. "I know it can be difficult to be around an ex-lover after a breakup…"

"I don't want to talk about Aya!" Yohji snapped, anger in his voice.

"I always thought _you_ would be the one to hurt _him_, not the other way around." Omicontinued gently, afraid, yet unable to stop himself. "I'm sorry I didn't have more faith in you. You really did love him, didn't you?"

"Omi…_Please. Don't._"

"Sorry."

Silence passed over the line. Omi began to explore the Esset screen again.

"He left because of Krittiker, didn't he?"

"Yes." Omi agreed reluctantly. "They'd been watching him for a long time. I would have stopped them had I known, but by the time I found out, it was too late."

"He was willing enough to leave me."

"I don't know, Yohji. They can play pretty dirty, you know."

"Something happened to him. He won't let me…"

"I know about that, too. Yohji…he _can't_ love while he's a killer."

Silence.

Omi debated his next words, but spoke them anyway.

"I didn't want him back in Weiss," the young man admitted. "I saw how he's changed, and I knew it would hurt you to see him this way."

"You try very hard to protect us, don't you, chibi?"

"It seems I'm never successful though." Omi sighed.

"How's the data?"

The young man frowned at the change in the subject.

"There's still one area I can't reach, but its clearance is far above your target's. She won't have the code."

"What are our orders, then?"

Omi closed his eyes. Despite the fact Weiss knew of his identity, it was still easier to give them orders under the guise of Persia.

"You're going to have to make a move on the base."

He could hear Yohji exhale loudly on the other line.

"Then we can go home?"

"I want one of you to get inside and patch me through to their main computer before destroying the building. Then you can come home."

"Thanks, chibi," he sighed.

"Yotan?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah?"

He steeled himself, knowing his next words were probably a mistake.

"For what it's worth, I know that I was wrong about you two back then. No one could watch the way you're suffering now and doubt that you loved him. No one could look at Aya now and doubt that your love was healing his soul. You made him so happy, Yohji."

"Thank you, Omi." Yohji rasped.

Omi closed his eyes.

"I'm not finished, Yohji," the young man said with difficulty. "I care too much to lie to you. You deserve all the honesty in the world."

"Omi…"

"Ayan was healing when he was with you, but that's all gone now." Omi felt sick. How could be continue? "He's really changed this time, Yotan." he said at last. "He's become nothing more than a weapon, and…I don't think there's ever going to be a way for him to change back."

"_No_, Omi."

"He's crossed the point of no return, Yotan." Omi said gently. "He's killed too many people now – his soul will never give him another chance to heal. He'll never be able to love again."

Silence.

"Please don't hate me for saying it, Yotan."

A quiet curse, then the line went dead.

Omi laid his head down on his desk, defeated.

* * *

To Be Continued

Omi needs to stop helping.

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**Ranneh** - thank you very much!

**incrazoweisslover** - okay...thanks for the review!

**Kirai** - Awww. (hands tissue) Sorry. Thanks though!

**glinwulf** - (evil grin)

**Tsukiyo no Yume** - lol. Thanks!

**CaT70** - there are spoliers in my lj if you want to know more. But really, wouldn't it be better to be surprised? (Kit has problems keeping her own secrets...)

**Moon without a Sun** - sorry.

**GuiltyAmethyst** - also sorry. Well...maybe not. I do need the plot, after all.

All right; that's everything! Thanks everyone! Hope to see you next time!


	5. Thoughts

My hand is hurting today, which means writing or drawing is out. So, typing it is.

Typing while listening to "Wicked." Probably not the best idea I've had. I keep wanting to stop and sing…

Finally. A glimpse into Aya's mind.

* * *

Much to his surprise and displeasure, Aya found that he was beginning to feel a strange, protective sort of fondness growing within him for his youngest and newest teammate, Sena Izumi. 

Looking at it objectively, he could say that part of his feelings stemmed from the fact that the boy was posing as one of his students. Aya had found that he rather liked teaching – when he managed to forget that the job was only a cover for something darker.

On the nights when regrets and blood stole his sleep from him, Aya found himself staring at the ceiling foolishly imagining what his life would have been like had he never lost his family. Perhaps he would have been something like a teacher.

Perhaps he would have lived in a little house with a green eyed man who made him smile and feel beautiful and cherished and…

When his thoughts turned to Yohji Kudoh, Aya knew it was finally safe to go to sleep.

Because despite everything that had happened, the nightmares never bothered him when the man he loved was the last thing on his mind before sleep. Night was the only time in which he could afford to indulge in the desire to think about the precious man.

During the day, there was always threat of weakness. It would be far too easy to give in and call the man during the day. Despite the fact he knew that the blonde was in another country, somehow, in the still and quiet of the night, Aya felt as if he were safe from giving in to his weaknesses.

Safe enough, anyway.

As long as the door was locked.

In any case, during the day, he had to be stone.

Casting away thoughts of the one he loved only served to bring Aya back to his current problem.

Weiss was his family. Ken, Yohji, and Omi. They had bled together for years. Their team had been Krittiker's most successful and most long lasting, simply because of the bond of brotherhood the four had shared.

Aya had been very upset when he'd learned of Omi's plans to leave Weiss, and had been simply infuriated when he'd first learned of Krittiker's plans to add new members to the group.

He was fairly certain that he had traumatized both of the new boys with his cold voice and ready glare, but after a few days, they managed to fit easily enough into the fabric of the team. Though Yohji hadn't like him very well, Kyo had gotten along fairly well with Ken, and had been quiet enough that he didn't annoy Aya as much as the red head had expected him to.

And as for Sena…

There was a darkness in the young man's eyes that Aya recognized.

No one entered their line of work without deep wounds marring his soul, but Sena's eyes bore the darkness of a child who had lost everything. Aya would have suspected enough of his past even if he hadn't read the boy's file; he had seen that darkness often enough gazing out of the mirror.

Sena was what Aya had once been, before the blood of his victims had begun to weigh too heavily on his soul – before he had abandoned the last of his vulnerabilities and chosen to encase himself in ice.

Having to lose Yohji had convinced Aya that he was past hope. He was a killer, and would never be able to turn back.

For Sena, however, there was still hope.

Reluctantly, Aya found himself caring about his new teammate in a manner similar to the way he cared for his sister. He wanted to protect him, rescue him from his fate.

Somehow, he thought, if he could save the boy, then he could save a small piece of his own soul.

Since Kyo's death, Sena had been very depressed. He moped around the house, he didn't do his homework. With Sena's murder of principal Inagaki and the recent suicide of his school friend Nozomi Miyazawa, it was the third time death had touched the boy in just a few too-short weeks.

At Rex's request, Aya had reluctantly agreed to move back into his old room above the flower shop. As leader of Weiss, it was his responsibility, after all, to keep an eye on Sena's mental health. If he thought the boy's depression would put the team at risk, then he had to be prepared to notify Rex and have him removed from the team.

They had decided to close down the old shop for the duration of the mission, not wanting their presence to put Aya-chan and the others who worked there in danger.

Aya was dreading the day Yohji and Ken returned from Europe. The blonde would want to move in to _his_ old room, too, and his close proximity would force Aya to hurt him even more than he already had.

The pale man shook his head, mentally scolding himself for allowing his thoughts to drift back to his lover. Hoping to distract himself, he reached for an apple.

Despite his attempts, he found his mind wandering back to the man as he washed the ripe, red fruit.

Leaving Yohji had been one of the most painful experiences of his life. He still wasn't sure if it was the actual leaving, or the knowledge of how much it would hurt the man who loved him which had been more painful.

Yohji had done so much for him, after all. He'd brought him love and passion and laughter.

And Aya was repaying him with harsh words, icy stares, and blatant lies.

A small noise drew him from his thoughts and he remembered that he was not alone. Irrational irritation flared up. He knew that Sena wasn't purposefully intruding, but it_ felt_ like he was.

"How long are you going to continue to mope around like that?" he demanded coldly.

"How long are you going to pretend that you didn't put those flowers out for a reason?" the boy countered in a hollow voice.

No one had told Sena that his leader had a history of romantic involvement with one of his teammates. He had merely been curious when he'd noticed that the red haired man had begun to keep an arrangement of fresh white roses and lavender on the table. The fact that Aya wouldn't tell him why he wanted the flowers only made him question it more.

Aya had been keeping the flowers on the table ever since he'd received a phone call from Yohji while the man had been on the plane. He hadn't heard from the blonde since then, and he knew he would not. Yohji's voice had been too desperate. Surely Aya had broken him.

He could not allow himself to think on the fact that someone else could at that very moment be in the arms of the man he loved. He would not allow himself to be so selfish as to be _hurt_ by what he had forced the man to do.

All he could do was keep the flowers on the off chance that when Yohji came home, he would understand the silent message and forgive him.

It was a mistake, he _knew_ it was a mistake. If Yohji understood the flowers, he would assume they meant more than they actually did, and would immediately demand an explanation. Then, if he wasn't too angry afterwards, he would insist that things return to the way they had been.

The way they _should_ be.

Nevertheless, Aya continued to put out fresh flowers. A sign of hope, if nothing else.

"If you're having this much trouble with a few deaths, then you're in the wrong business." Aya informed Sena coldly, refusing to acknowledge the comment on the flowers.

The boy didn't answer.

Aya finished cutting the apple and put it on a plate, taking it to his youngest teammate.

* * *

The day Yohji returned to Japan, it was raining. Aya went to pick up Ken and him at the airport, and took Sena with him. The blonde wouldn't dare try anything in a car full of their teammates. 

Ayahad received the call with instructions on when and where to go only the day before, and had been nearly frantic with worry ever since.

'Frantic' for Aya was 'slightly uneasy' for most people, of course, and Aya doubted that Sena even realized how on edge his leader was.

Yohji and Ken had been successful on their mission, but Yohji had been injured. He had nearly died, according to Persia.

The first sight of him in the airport had been like the first breath of air to a drowning man. Until that first sight, Aya hadn't been entirely convinced that the man _would_ be returning.

Yohji had taken a severe beating, according to Persia, but was past the danger stage. Aya's sharp eyes could pick up the slight limp, the way he almost seemed to huddle a little over his ribs. No one else would notice either sign of lasting injury.

Once he had confirmed for himself that the man was all right, Aya looked at him – _really_ looked at him.

All the breath left his body in one long rush.

Yohji's eyes were deep and haunted, his normally golden skin paled to an almost sickly pallor. His woefully shorn hair was unwashed, his clothing rumpled and travel stained.

To Aya, he was the sun breaking through the clouds – far too beautiful to be true. The sudden desire to hold him was so strong that his arms ached for the man's comforting weight. He actually took one step forward, wanting to run to him.

He barely stopped himself in time.

Yohji looked up, and even across the span of the crowded airport, his eyes met Aya's.

The warmth and laughter were gone from that emerald gaze. The love that he had always looked on Aya with was still as strong and as fierce as ever, but without his light he was like a starving, wild animal staring out between the bars of a cage.

Aya shivered, knowing that it was his fault the man he loved had to look like that.

Staring at him from across the airport, Aya questioned himself.

They were both hurting so _badly_, and there was no one he could blame but himself. _He_ was the one pushing Yohji away. _He _was the one denying them both the love they had come to depend so desperately on years ago.

Aya violently shoved those thoughts away, locking his mind tightly against them.

Assassins should not love.

They certainly should not love _each other_.

The partner presented a weakness too easily exploited by both enemies and employers. If there had not been so much love between Aya and Yohji, a physical relationship may still have been possible, but it was too late now.

There were simply too many disastrous possibilities.

If they were allowed to love, they could be distracted during a mission. If they were together, they could be used as weapons against each other. If there was any trace of tenderness left between them, Krittiker could force them onto paths which they did not wish to take.

_Again_.

Aya would not meet a fate like Yohji's Asuka had. He would not be a ghost for the man. The suffering of rejection was painful enough; Aya would _not_ leave Yohji the pain of another dead lover.

He forced himself to look away, breaking away from the emerald gaze that had once pinned him helpless and quivering with the desire in the dark of night.

Yohji did not attempt to recapture his gaze, nor to force him to speak to him.

Aya tried to believe that it was better this way.

* * *

Yohji saw Aya, and the shame nearly overwhelmed him. 

Cold and proud, achingly beautiful, yet untouchable. Forbidden. Yohji couldn't read those cool, distant eyes. His expression was utterly blank, his posture rigid. He was the leader of Weiss, and there was no room for any vulnerability, any humanity.

Yohji looked at him, and knew that the man he saw was nothing more than a façade.

Behind that imposing exterior, there resided a sweetly helpless soul that ached for love. That hadn't changed.

Behind the wall was a man who had cried in his arms like a heartbroken child. A man who had given him all his heart, all his trust.

And Yohji had _dared_ even _think_ about giving him up? Yohji had been weak enough to _let_ the man push him away?

The very fact that Aya had grown so cold, Yohji realized with sudden insight, proved how very fragile he was.

Aya looked away, and Yohji felt a surge of angered annoyance.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

The more he pushed Aya, the more the man would push back. Aya knew how to defend himself – pursuing him wasn't going to work this time.

Aya was so far away – how could he ever reach him again?

Aya would never come to him, admit wrongdoing, and beg for forgiveness. Aya would never admit that he wanted him back. Aya had made the conscious decision to push him away.

How could Yohji get him back without pushing too hard?

* * *

To Be Continued 

"Elphaba, where I'm from, we believe all sorts of things that aren't true. We call it 'history'."

I hate the wizard, but the man makes a good point, there.

The third fic has now officially been named: Flood.

This chapter is early for the pure and simple reason that, now that my brothers' spring break has begun, updates will be more sporadic. It's just impossible to know how often I'll be able to wrench away control of the computer. I'll try not to disapear though - I promise!

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**Guiltyamethyst** - (whistles innocently)

**angel **- thank you very much!

**CaT70** - When I fist saw the first nine episodes a year ago, I hated it. However, when I began to get into Bridges and realized I needed to be more familiar with Gluhen, I gave it a second look. To my surprise I discovered that the story was actually really good; that I had only been biased against it because of the changes in the character designs. Really, it's very well done, and the artwork is breautiful, once you get used to the idea of the new designs. Unfortunatley, there won't be any really happy moments until Flood.


	6. Confrontation

Hm. This is actually one of my favorite chapters…

* * *

Yohji had been given a few additional days to heal up before returning to his duties as an active member of Weiss.

It had been somewhat amusing to see how it annoyed Aya when Yohji decided to move in with the rest of Weiss above the old flower shop.

It had been even more amusing to see the man's reaction when he had learned of Yohji's orders to infiltrate the school in the guise of an art teacher.

The darkness had not receded from Yohji's mind. Close proximity to Aya helped a little, because there were times when he was sure that the stubborn redhead looked at him with sorrow and yearning; however, whenever Aya was out of sight, the doubts came flooding back.

Yohji had failed Asuka. He had betrayed Michelle.

How dare he think himself worthy of earning back the love of Aya?

His emotions swung as if placed on a pendulum. One moment he would be plotting out a way to win back the man he loved, the next he would be nearly in tears, convinced it was impossible.

The only peace Yohji could find was when he ignored the love, ignored the pain, and allowed numbness to consume him. Numb, he functioned only through the mask he had managed to summon, relying on old habits and tendencies to help him survive – to keep him from breaking down under the strain of love and pain pressing down so forcefully onto him.

Aya had to give Yohji rides to and from the academy every day, because the blonde had gotten his license revoked for a DUI. Persia had given the order – he wouldn't risk one of Weiss being locked up because of some stupid mistake.

Aya never spoke during these long rides. Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, he would drive with his eyes pointed straight ahead, unresponsive to anything that Yohji said to him.

Yohji couldn't pinpoint anything specific, but this day he could have sworn that there was something different about the man.

It had been a long time since they'd been lovers, and the man that Aya had been during that time seemed as different from the man driving the car as night and day.

Nevertheless, Yohji was positive that the man beside him was angry.

More than angry.

_Furious_.

Yohji watched him carefully as he drove, and each second that passed seemed to confirm for him what he had already guessed.

When they got out of the car at the flower shop, Aya's walk – all of his body language – was that of Abyssinian about to make a kill.

Yohji stayed by the car as the smaller man stalked to the back door. He hadn't planned it, but a single word slipped from his lips.

"Aya?"

The man froze, body stiffening.

Slowly the redhead turned on him, eyes smoldering with dark rage.

"How can you still claim to love me?" he hissed.

Yohji froze, a part of him scolding him for being so pathetic as to actually feel joy that Aya was even speaking to him, even if it _was_ in anger.

"What do you mean?" Yohji asked softly. "Of _course_ I still love you!"

Trembling, the redhead clenched his hands into fists and took a step forward.

"Oh?"

"You're _everything_, Aya."

The glare only intensified. Aya opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. Without another word, he turned and stalked into the house.

Yohji followed.

He barely took notice of Ken and Sena sitting at the kitchen table; he only had eyes for his former lover.

"Aya, what is it?" he asked, unwilling to lose the chance to talk to him. Angry or not, at least Aya was acknowledging his presence.

He reached for him, and Aya jerked violently away.

"You were flirting with that…that _woman_!"

"Tsuji?" Yohji blinked.

Aya's eyes blazed at the name, and Yohji felt the first stirrings of anger in answer.

"What if I was?" he demanded.

Cold fury, a killing glacier in Aya's eyes. The redhead turned to walk away.

Yohji lashed out, grabbing first one wrist, then the other. The more Aya struggled, the more tightly Yohji held him. Dangerous as the swordsman was, Yohji was still physically stronger.

"What right do you have to be upset with me, Aya?" he challenged, pulling him forcefully closer. "How do you fucking _dare_ act jealous?"

"Let me. The _fuck_. Go."

"_You_ left _me_, Aya! _You_ pushed _me_ away! Why _shouldn't_ I flirt with her? With anyone I want?"

"You're _hurting _me, damn it!"

"And what the hell do you think you're doing to _me_, baby?" he countered. Aya's eyes flashed in warning, but Yohji was far past caring. "Give me a reason not to flirt with her! I'm begging you – just one reason!"

He searched the smaller man's eyes, and his breath caught at the note of panic that filled them as he leaned in closer.

His lips covered Aya's, and he moaned at the sudden, nearly electrical shock that coursed through his body at the contact.

The scent of his shampoo, the warmth of his skin, the very _taste_ of him.

He was home.

Aya only fought him for a moment before allowing the invasion of his tongue. Releasing his wrists, Yohji placed one hand on Aya's hip and brought the other up to cup the back of his head to keep him from pulling away.

Yohji delved more deeply, entranced by the feel of Aya in his arms once again after such a long separation. He moved one hand to the small of the other man's back, pulling him even closer, pressing their bodies together in one long, clean line.

Yohji pulled back slowly, reluctantly, smiling with tingling lips at the expression on Aya's face.

Closing his eyes, he leaned in for another kiss.

He never saw Aya's fist move, but he felt it when it connected.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, propped up against the cabinets and staring at a white-faced Sena as Ken helped him hold a blood-soaked towel to his nose.

Aya was long gone.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, thumping against the cabinets as he struck his fist into the ground.

"Yohji…"

"Not a fucking word, Ken."

Silence. He could feel Sena still staring at him.

"At least he didn't have his sword with him." Ken offered at last, tone dry.

Yohji barked out a harsh, pained laugh.

* * *

Aya looked very frail and vulnerable, slouched in an oversized chair with kiss-swollen lips and bruises that were perfectly-shaped fingerprints on his wrists.

Yet, even still, Yohji looked far worse. The blow to his face had left him with not one, but two black eyes, and the few days since the confrontation hadn't done much to help him heal.

As far as Ken knew, the two former lovers had hardly spoken since the incident. It had occurred on a Friday, and Yohji had spent the weekend moping on the couch, watching television.

Ken hadn't seen Aya once the entire time.

It was not Monday. Yohji had called in sick to work, and Aya had challenged him on it when he'd found out, barging rudely into the blonde's room.

Their yells had woken everyone else up.

They had still been arguing when Ken had returned from dropping Sena off at school.

When _he_ had begun yelling, both men had fallen into silent glowers.

Glad to at last have the floor, Ken glared furiously at his two battered, sullen teammates.

"I am sick to _fuck_ of this!" the brunette informed them in a voice that was dangerously quiet. "You're annoying me, endangering the team, and I think you've traumatized the kid!"

"Fuck off, KenKen." Yohji mumbled miserably.

"Don't tell him to fuck off." Aya snapped.

"Stop it!"

Both fell silent. Neither had heard the normally-cheerful athlete raise his voice like that before.

"What happened to you two?" he demanded.

"That's what I'd like to know."

A glare, and Yohji shut up.

"You two _loved_ each other." Ken sighed at last. "You loved each other _so_ much! Two seconds in your company and Miyo and I were both convinced…" he ducked his head to hide the flash of pain that he knew still filled his eyes when he thought about the woman he'd loved.

"I still love him." Yohji said quietly. "I love him more than anything."

Aya snorted.

"The very fact that you can argue like this means that there's something between you still…even if it _is_ only passion." Ken looked back up, imploring his friends to listen to him. "You can't have this hanging between you – you'll kill all of us with this behavior."

"There wouldn't be a problem if he would just let me go." Aya said after a long stretch of silence.

"You asked me to hold you forever." Yohji rasped.

"I changed my mind."

"How the hell am I supposed to believe that?"

"What does that mean?"

Yohji looked up, and his eyes were filled with all the pain in the world.

"So much that comes out of your mouth is lies!" he spat.

"Watch yourself, Kudoh."

"No, it's true! You said you loved me; you _swore_ that you would never leave me without talking to me about it first. Now, not only do you suddenly not love me, but you didn't even want me back in Weiss! How is _anyone_ supposed to wade through all that bullshit to find the truth?"

Before the blonde could answer, the blonde rose and left the room.

Aya hid his face in his hands when he heard a door slam, and began to shake uncontrollably.

"Aya?" Ken rose, concerned.

"Keep him away from me, Hidaka."

"Aya, you can't…" Ken gasped as Aya looked up, face streaked with tears.

"I still love him, Ken."

"Aya!"

It seemed immediately he was across the room, wishing Omi were there. The younger boy had always known how to comfort one in pain.

Aya actually leaned against him, a testament to his turmoil, as his trembling became too violent for him to remain sitting up. His face was once more hidden in his hands as he cried silently.

Tentatively, Ken put his arms around the man, realizing as he did so that it had never occurred to him that his leader _could_ cry.

But then, everyone had a breaking point.

"Aya, I don't understand," he said gently. "If you love him, why aren't you with him? Why are you pushing him away?"

* * *

Yohji and Aya both returned to work on Tuesday. Ken helped Yohji to cover his bruises. The athlete was wary of allowing the two to ride together to the school, and had offered to drive Yohji himself, only to receive a silent snarl from Aya and a rude hand gesture from Yohji.

It was war between the two former lovers, and both were stubbornly clinging to the idea of pretending that nothing was wrong.

At Ken's question yesterday, Aya had completely closed himself off, refusing to say anything else. He had become colder than he had ever been toward Ken, the dried tears on his face suddenly appearing more like war paint.

The two men were completely silent in the car, and avoided each other at work. They were silent on the ride home.

Until Yohji realized that Aya wasn't taking him back to the shop.

"Aya?"

The man only grunted at him.

Yohji stirred himself from his sulk enough to pay attention, and realized eventually that they were headed toward a park located very near the old apartment building.

The red head didn't speak as he got out of the car, and Yohji hurried to follow him.

They walked together for some time. At last, when they had reached a secluded area, Aya sat down on a bench.

"All right, Yohji," he stated.

"All right what?"

"Yell."

"What?"

The man closed his eyes.

"This is never going to work, Yohji," he stated quietly. "Weiss cannot survive with this rift between us. I don't love you anymore. You have to let me go. We aren't leaving until we work something out."

Yohji turned away. His back to Aya, he screamed every curse he knew at the sky.

"What the _fuck_, Aya?" he raged, rounding back on him. "What is the matter with you?"

"I will protect my team, Yohji."

"I'm part of Weiss, too, asshole!"

Aya didn't answer.

But it struck Yohji as if the other man had screamed it.

Aya was protecting Yohji, too.

The blonde fell to his knees.

"Aya…"

"I am the leader of Weiss." Aya stated evenly. "There is nothing more important than my team. I have bled for them. I will die for them. There is nothing I will not sacrifice, including my heart. I don't love you, Yohji. I have removed that emotion."

"How can you bear it?"

"That is no longer your concern."

"You aren't alive anymore, are you, Aya?" he asked softly. "Your body is still moving, but your soul has fled."

"Perhaps."

"How could you do this to yourself, love?"

Silence, but Yohji already knew the answer.

Aya had always been willing to hurt himself if it would lead to what he considered to be the "greater good."

"Is it really too late?"

"Yes," Aya whispered. "I'm sorry."

He went to him, sitting beside him.

"Why, Aya?" he demanded. "Why didn't you come to me? I could have helped you! I could have protected you!"

"Protect me from myself?" his lips quirked. "No, Yohji. I don't need it."

"Aya…"

"The man you love is dead. Can you let him go now?"

"I don't want to let you go!"

"If you don't, we'll just end up hurting each other again. Do you really want that? Do you want us hurting each other just so that you can continue to hope for something that will never happen?"

"Aya…"

"I will never be as gentle with you as I am right now. Fuck up and I will take the appropriate action." Aya's eyes slid into cold as he rose. "Come on. It's time to go now. We won't have this discussion again."

Yohji reluctantly rose to follow him, feeling as if he had taken a sound beating. He looked at Aya, and could not find a single trace of the man he had loved.

* * *

To Be Continued

You are now exactly halfway through this fic. Congrats. Six chapters down, six to go. Squee.

There's one new piece of fanart up in my profile, as well as in my lj. As for this piece, it is for Flood, specifically, and may be a bit of a spoiler. (I'm honestly not sure one way or the other.) Anyway, if you don't care, or you feel like taking a chance, go take a look.

I would like to post more before the series is over, even if they aren't particularly good. And if anyone else has any, please, send them my way!

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**Moon without a Sun** - email me and I'll send you everything I have.

**Guiltyamethyst** - awww. Sorry. (grins)

**CaT70** - ow! No kicking!


	7. Wine

In this chapter, there is a part where I _slightly_ tweak the timeline just a little bit (in reference to the whole Tsuji/Asami thing). Anyway, it doesn't really matter, and only someone who's been eating and breathing Gluhen over the past few weeks would even notice it, but I thought I would mention that I was aware of this tweak, just in case anyone feels like being anal about the cannon.

This chapter makes great assumption that the reader is familiar with the cannon storyline. I just didn't feel like going into it. I hope no one gets lost…

* * *

The week passed by with a hellish sluggishness. Yohji knew what their conversation had cost Aya. Though no longer cold toward the blonde, Aya remained quiet. The only thing he was willing to talk about with anyone was the mission.

Yohji wasn't sure whether to just be grateful that Aya was talking to him at all, or to sink into depression because the man now treated him no differently than he did Ken or Sena.

Yohji could not stop loving him.

Every day he lived with a silent, throbbing ache in his chest because he knew that it was over. The man was so graceful, so impossibly beautiful – and so far away.

Yohji wouldn't push him anymore though. He knew that it had hurt Aya to admit what he had done to himself. If Yohji truly loved the man, than he shouldn't disrespect such a sacrifice.

Still, it _hurt_, and he knew that it hurt Aya, too. So they were both suffering and in pain and the only cure was the one they couldn't share. It wasn't fucking _fair_!

They were walking down the hall together and reached the intersection where they usually separated to go to their separate wings of the school.

Aya hesitated.

"Have a good day, Yohji." he said at last.

"Aya, wait."

The redhead turned to him, eyes defeated.

"Don't." he warned quietly.

Yohji shook his head and changed what he'd been planning to say.

"Persia suggested that we get close to some of the other teachers," he said quietly, quickly glancing around to make certain they were alone. "To see if any of them know anything we can use."

"I remember." Aya answered quietly.

"Well…I was thinking about asking Tsuji out." Seduction was one of Yohji's greatest tools as an assassin, and the only sure-fire way he knew of to get close to the mark.

Aya showed no reaction to his words.

"That's a good idea," the pale man answered at last.

"You…don't mind?"

"As long as you don't develop feelings for her and endanger the team, then I have no reason for objection."

"All right."

"Was…was there anything else?"

"No, um…have a good day."

"You too." Aya nodded. "Goodbye."

Yohji stared at him as he disappeared down the hall, wanting nothing more than to run after him. To wrap his arms around him and refuse to let go, no matter how he fought.

"Stupid, Yohji…" he chided himself.

He would never stop loving Aya, and he would never love anyone else. But part of love was sacrifice. He couldn't force the man to love him again; all he could do was try his best to ensure the man's continued health and happiness. If Aya wanted his space, Yohji would give it to him.

And one day, when Weiss had disbanded and he was too old to kill, perhaps then the man would let him stay near him.

* * *

He breathed in as deeply as possible, exhaling with a strict slowness. The school and surrounding countryside appeared deceptively peaceful stretched out before him from his vantage point atop the roof.

He wondered if the students who jumped had taken the time to enjoy the view before ending their lives.

Aya closed his eyes and took another deep breath. In. Out.

He hurt like he had never hurt before, and his future stretched before him bleak and bloody and lonely. How could he continue? How could he live with this deep and terrible pain that showed no signs of fading?

But he had responsibilities. His sister was awake and healthy, and Yohji was clearly already moving on, but there were still things which required Aya's attention. This mission was important. Weiss still needed him.

Another deep breath. In. Out.

Slowly his hands relaxed on the rail.

He could do this. He could continue to live and lie and kill. He could continue to look Yohji in the eye without falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness.

Only a little longer, he promised himself.

It couldn't last forever.

Aya opened his eyes and knew that none of his inner turmoil would show within their violet depths. He would have to go back inside soon; he had left his class alone with a test. It wouldn't do for anyone to ever suspect how close to the brink he really was.

It would be so easy to let himself break and wait for Yohji to pick up the pieces. It would feel so wonderful to be able to feel the blonde man's arms, his kisses. To be able to depend fully on his lover's support.

But it was too dangerous. Despite the pain, Aya was fully convinced that he was doing the right thing. The way Krittiker had coerced him back into their ranks had terrified him. He didn't want the same thing to happen to Yohji. He would not be a weapon to use against Yohji.

"Mr. Fujimiya?" a voice called out suddenly, unexpectedly. Aya turned to find his coworker, Asami, coming toward him with a smile on her face. "I didn't expect to find you up here!"

* * *

He was dying, he was sure of it. No one could hurt this badly and survive - it just wasn't possible.

Tsuji was walking toward him. Was he really going to do this?

Wasn't it what Aya wanted?

"I wanted to thank you for modeling for me." Yohji told the woman, heart wrenching. He had once lived on the flirting game – thrived on it. Now it only hurt. "How does dinner sound?"

Her lips quirked. Something flashed in her eyes that almost reminded him of Aya.

"I'll think about it," she teased.

Yohji couldn't bear it. Mumbling something which he hoped made sense, he handed her a card with the restaurant's address on it, and fled.

* * *

A fancy restaurant, a bottle of wine, and a beautiful woman.

There had been a time in Yohji's life when those three things had been all he needed to keep himself happy.

Now, however, it was a struggle just to act like the man he had once been.

When Tsuji had invited him back to her place, he had nearly told her no.

Then he imagined returning to the flower shop and being forced to admit that _he_ had been the one to end the date. That, if nothing else, would alert Aya to the fact that he still loved him. His love was a burden the man didn't need.

Tsuji smiled at him as she pulled him up the stairs in her house, her sparkling purple eyes bearing a painful resemblance to Aya's.

"I think we'll save the grand tour for later," she whispered throatily, leading him into the bedroom. She had had enough wine at dinner that she didn't seem to notice how hesitant he was, how little he helped as she relieved them both of their clothing.

She kissed him fervently and he responded automatically, hands moving to rest against the bare skin of her shapely hips. Gender had never mattered to Yohji Kudoh, and his body didn't care that this was not the taunt, muscled skin of the man he loved, but the supple, satiny curves of a woman he barely knew.

"You taste wonderful." Tsuji murmured, laying backwards on the bed and pulling him with her.

Yohji allowed the instincts of his body to take control, blanking his mind to all but the physical pleasure. This was a mission and nothing more. Nothing mattered.

Her long nails scraped his back teasingly, only serving to cruelly remind him of how Aya had had a habit of accidentally drawing blood in the midst of passion. It had been sexy as hell to watch the normally reserved man lose control so fully.

Yohji groaned, fighting to exorcise the memory of the man he loved so dearly.

Taking the noise as passion, Tsuji arched into him invitingly.

Yohji at last succeeded in blocking his mind, watching through half-lidded eyes as his hands moved of their own accord, exploring an unfamiliar body which he had no wish to know.

He closed his eyes and let his lips rest against her skin as he gave control completely over to his instincts.

He wasn't paying attention when his instincts at last realized that this was the "wrong" person.

As he stared at nothing, his ear did not register the strange sounds they heard as being of any importance.

Until he heard his name called.

"Y…you're choking me!" Tsuji gasped.

He blinked, returning to reality to find his hands around the woman's throat, a shocked and fearful expression in her pansy-colored eyes.

* * *

He felt as if her were moving in slow motion. As if, at last, he had ceased to exist, yet his body continued to function without him, refusing to acknowledge the death of his soul.

Too much.

There had just been too much, in too short amount of time. He was being pulled apart at the seams. How could his mind survive this turmoil when the very act of thinking caused such pain? He was being ripped apart from the _inside_!

To forget…

Could he really? It seemed a gift too good to be true.

At the same time, it was a terrifying possibility.

Forget Asuka? What would be left of him?

Forget _Aya_?

Huddled in on himself as he was, the blonde man found he couldn't suppress a shudder.

He was barely surviving now; how was he to endure without the memory of that man? He was the only one who had seen the gorgeous man smile with life and love shining in his eyes. How could he allow himself to forget such a rare and breathtaking thing?

But remembering _hurt_.

He was losing his mind. He could almost believe that he really heard the voice of his beloved Asuka counseling him. What kind of rational decision could a madman make?

Grabbing his keys, Yohji Kudoh fled Tsuji's home.

* * *

When Sena came down for breakfast Saturday morning, he was surprised to find one of his teammates at the kitchen table nursing a cigarette and a mug of coffee. Despite the presence of the coffee, the man smelt strongly of alcohol.

His eyes were red and haunted, heavy bags hanging under them. His skin was sallow, his hair unwashed and uncombed.

He looked…terrified.

"Kudoh-san?"

The man gave a jump, staring at him.

"What are you doing up?" the blonde demanded, voice a rasp.

"It's nearly ten thirty."

Yohji glanced at the bright sun pouring through the windows and winced.

"Oh."

Sena hesitated. He didn't feel that he knew Yohji as well as he knew the others, and felt awkward around him – especially after witnessing his fight with Aya.

"Do you want me to get you something to eat?" he offered at last.

The blonde grimaced.

"No."

"Okay…" Sena put some bread in the toaster, deciding that he would go back to his room after getting something quick.

"Where did Aya go?"

Sena froze at the question. The last thing he wanted was to get in the middle of _that_ mess.

"What?"

"He left a few hours ago. I want to know where he went."

"Why didn't you just ask him?"

"Because then he would know I care!"

"That's sick, Yohji," Ken yawned, coming down the stairs to join them.

"Bite me, KenKen."

The athlete nodded to himself as he moved to pour some coffee. "I thought you stayed at that woman's house last night," he observed. "What are you doing back so soon?"

Yohji snarled soundlessly, not answering.

"Aya went out today with a coworker," the brunette informed him, sitting down. He barked out a laugh at the sight of Yohji's stricken countenance. "I don't think it's anything more than work."

Clearly not believing him, Yohji turned his attention back to his coffee.

"He'll be pissed if he comes home and finds you like this."

"He won't give a shit."

Ken took a sip of his coffee and promptly spit it out.

"You _spiked_ the coffee, Kudoh?" he exploded.

"Wasn't strong enough," the man grumbled.

With an annoyed sound, Ken grabbed Sena's arm and pulled him to his side before turning on the sink and grabbing up the sprayer, shooting Yohji with a stream of cold water.

"_Bastard!"_ Yohji yelled, trying without success to hide behind the vase of flowers that rested in the center of the table. He knocked the vase over as he fled the room. Ken dropped the sprayer and followed after, intent on making sure the man cleaned himself up.

* * *

Yohji's relationship with Ken had always been a strange one. With insults, threats, and blatant displays of violence, the athlete had managed to not only get Yohji cleaned up, but to take his mind from his personal torment – if only for a short while.

Hours later, Yohji was home alone when he heard a strange sound in the kitchen. Ken and Sena had gone, though he couldn't remember if they'd told him where they were going.

Rising from his bed – had he actually fallen asleep? – Yohji padded down the stairs to the kitchen, freezing at the sight that greeted him.

The shards from the broken vase had been swept up and placed in the garbage. Aya was kneeling on the floor gathering the spilt flowers.

As Yohji watched, the man touched one of the petals of a white rose almost reverently, a pained expression on his face.

"Did you have fun on your date?"

Aya gave a small jump, looking up at him. Whatever expression that had been on his face was quickly hidden.

"What date?" he asked quietly. His eyes widened slightly. "Asami?"

"So, it isn't that you aren't capable of love anymore, is it, Aya?" Yohji questioned, coming further into the room. Aya gave a wince as Yohji's foot came down and crushed one of the roses. "It's just _me_ that you can't love."

"I've never said that, Yohji," he answered quietly, not looking at him.

"You might as well have."

"It wasn't a date."

"I don't believe you, Aya. Every _fucking_ word out of your mouth is _always _a lie."

Aya looked up at him at last, eyes blazing, then dropped his gaze as he rose.

He shoved the flowers he had gathered into Yohji's arms as he passed by, fleeing up the stairs.

Yohji stayed where he was, simmering with anger. He was hurt and tired and his mind felt like it had been ground up and spit on.

What was the point in trying any longer, he wondered. Why not give up? Why cling to the memory of a man so desperate to stay away from him?

He looked down at the flowers in his arms. White roses and lavender, their petals kissed with drops of water that had spilled over them when they had fallen. Aya had kept the same arrangement on the table for weeks, switching out the flowers when they began to wilt. It had been a nearly religious habit for the man.

Yohji let the flowers drop back to the ground and moved to the fridge, deciding he needed a drink.

He froze with the door open, an idea striking him like lightening. Slowly he turned to view the fallen flowers.

Years ago, before the battle against the elders of Esset, Yohji had made the discovery that Aya had learned the symbolism behind flowers.

It was the reason the redhead's arrangements sold so well – not only did he have a good eye for color and texture, but he could ensure that each and every flower did its part to contribute to the overall message.

Yohji hadn't yet been in love with Aya at that time, though the pale man had already become a regular in the blonde's fantasies. The possible seduction of his leader had proven itself to be an exciting challenge. Hoping to use it as an excuse to get closer to the man, Yohji had asked Aya for lessons in the meanings of flowers.

He hadn't done very well back then; he had been too busy trying to be alluring to really concentrate on the things Aya was telling him. It wasn't until later, after the Esset elders had been defeated and Weiss disbanded that the blonde had begun to study them in earnest.

Roses were the cliché above all clichés, but with reason. They were beautiful flowers, with beautiful meanings. White roses, if he remembered correctly, stood for eternal love, as well as secrecy and silence.

And lavender stood for…_devotion._

"Yohji, you fuckin' moron!" he groaned, feeling his eyes go wide.

Aya had kept those flowers fresh _religiously_. He had been _sad_ when they had been trampled on.

Aya, the sweet, subtle bastard, had been lying with his lips while his actions screamed the truth at anyone with enough intelligence to look.

Cursing, Yohji ran up the stairs after Aya.

* * *

To Be Continued

Don't get too excited. Just a warning.

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**Moon without a Sun** – angst-fest. YeeHaw. Flood will give you the squee, my dear. I think. Hang in there.

**CaT70** – (Plugs ears) If I listened to demands, this story would be a lot shorter!

**GuiltyAmethyst** – You'll volunteer for the hugging, right?

**KamiCat** – thank you much; I'm so glad you've finally discovered this storyline. (grins)

**Morgan** – No happy ending for Inferno. Any happiness will come in Flood, the third fic. And even then, I'm not gonna make it easy.

**renee** - I'm so glad you like it! Thanks!

Thanks everyone; see ya next time!


	8. Damage

Very short chapter this time. Blame the pacing bunnies.

* * *

Aya turned quickly as Yohji stormed into the room, a biting comment ready on his lips.

Yohji deserved to be angry at him after everything he had put the man through, but Aya thought _he_ deserved to be safe fromthat angerwhen he was in the privacy of his own room. Even his own guilt wasn't enough for him to let the man punish him forever.

He opened his mouth to yell, but wasn't fast enough. In an instant, Yohji had crossed the room.

Aya found himself gripped almost painfully in a pair of familiar arms, crushed against a strong chest. A mouth covered his own, hot and hungry.

Yohji tasted of alcohol, toothpaste, and cigarettes – but Aya had never tasted anything so sweet. He was nearly overcome with the familiar scent of him, the feel of his long, lean body pressed so tightly against his own, the lips so persistent and eager for his flesh.

Aya shoved away quickly.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, Kudoh?"

Yohji smiled. It was fierce and wild and beautiful, and it took Aya's breath away because it had been so long since he had seen the man smile like that.

"Aya."

Yohji moved forward again, trapping his face in his hands, catching his lips again.

"You love me." Yohji whispered against his lips. There wasn't a hint of doubt in his voice. His eyes shone with a joy and playfulness Aya had never expected to see again. "You sneaky bastard, you _love_ me."

Aya wanted to pull away, but he was trapped as much by Yohji's eyes as by his hands.

"Roses and lavender? Sneaky, sneaky bastard."

Laughing, Yohji kissed him again.

"You love me."

"Those flowers were meant to keep you from breaking, _nothing_ more!" Aya glared, desperate. "I don't love - !"

"You love me."

Yohji kissed him until he was breathless, moving his hands to rest on Aya's hips, then sliding around to grip his rear and pull him closer.

"I _care_ about you, Yohji," Aya told him, fighting to catch his breath. "I care about you more than anything. But I don't love…"

"No buts," Yohji whispered heatedly, giving his rear a squeeze. "Except this one."

His body was a smooth, burning line against Aya's, his lips hungry on his mouth, his neck, his jaw, collarbone, shoulder, back to his mouth.

Aya took a step back, trying to get away, and Yohji followed with lips and hands and body. Another step, followed again. Yohji wouldn't allow so much as an inch to separate them.

"'M not letting you get away again!" Yohji whispered heatedly against his lips.

Aya's knees hit the bed and he lost his balance. He fell.

Yohji followed.

Aya couldn't help but to give a small gasp of surprise at the sudden weight of Yohji atop him once more after so long. His body reacted instinctively, allowing Yohji's body to rest between his legs, caressing the man's hip with his calve.

Yohji's hips were flush against his own, the weight of him so warm and wonderfully heavy.

"Are you hurt?" Yohji asked, raising his head quickly.

His eyes were so dark and beautiful, his concern for Aya's well-being winning out over any lingering lust. Aya missed the curtain of wavy hair that had once fallen around them so beautifully.

He reached up to touch his woefully shorn locks, felt the unfamiliar crunch of hair gel.

"Why did you cut it?" he asked quietly.

Yohji gave a small, ironic smile.

"Mourning."

"Yohji…"

"It really messed me up when you left, bunny thong."

Aya closed his eyes in pain, reminded suddenly of why he shouldn't be lying in bed with Yohji. Why it was so dangerous to kiss him and love him and want him.

Yohji saw the distance growing within him and kissed him, nipping his lips playfully.

"Don't go away, love. I'm not finished with you yet."

Aya opened his eyes.

"You're going to make me hurt you, aren't you?"

"You can't Aya. _Please_."

"Why couldn't you just leave it alone?" he asked angrily, voice breaking.

"What are you trying to do, Aya?"

Aya refused to answer, continuing to let his fingers idly play with Yohji's hair. Cutting it had made it more curly, and the sun had bleached it until it was an even lighter blonde.

"Aya?"

He forced himself to look at him, forced himself to meet his eyes.

He loved this man. He loved him more deeply and more strongly than he had ever before loved anyone, or ever would. He cherished him. Every look, every touch, every stolen moment.

He worshiped those wickedly green eyes, adored his large, strong hands. There weren't words to describe how it made him feel to have those arms around him, that impossibly sensual body pressed to his own. His smile enslaved him, his teasing laughter was pure heaven.

Yohji was his entire world. Being without him had been like living in a world with no color. There could be no happiness without Yohji – only pain.

"_Aya_." Yohji brushed his lips against one eyelid in a feather-light touch, then the other. "I love you." He moved his lips to Aya's, a soft caress. "You've put me through hell, but I still love you."

"Yohji…"

"But if you're fucking trying to protect me, or some other stupid shit, we're going to have a fight."

"Yohji…"

"You love me, and I worship you. The only time either of us is happy is when we're together. Our time together was the best it's ever been in my life – better than I ever believed possible. Better…" Yohji closed his eyes, resting his head against Aya's shoulder. "Better than Asuka."

"Yohji, don't…"

"I know it was like that for you, too. It had to be! Even if you didn't really love me, you loved being with me, didn't you? You loved sleeping with me. You can't argue with that."

"Maybe you should leave."

Yohji lifted his head, and Aya was shocked to see moisture in his eyes.

"So if I love you, and you love sex, there's only two things that could explain why you won't be with me. Either you're trying to protect me, or you're trying to protect yourself. Either way, it means you don't trust me."

Aya didn't know what to say.

Yohji shook his head.

"It _hurts_, but I don't _care_. I don't care how much you hurt me; I just want to be with you. I know it's sad and pathetic and embarrassing, but if you would just let me be with you, Aya…You don't have to love me, just tolerate me. I won't even use the _L_ word if you don't want me to. You still want me, don't you? Even if you can't love me?"

Aya's heart broke.

Beautiful, exciting, confident sex god Yohji Kudoh was reduced to this all because of him. It would be so easy, so wonderful, to simply give in. They could be happy again. Yohji could go back to being the sexy, fun, amazing man he had always been.

But how long would that last once Krittiker began to interfere again?

In the long run, wouldn't they both just end up hurting all the more if he _did_ give in?

It took him three tries before he could speak.

"I'm sorry, Yohji," he managed at last, voice a rasp.

"_No!_ Don't _say_ that!"

"One day you'll understand. You'll thank me for loving you enough that I would think of your safety above all others."

"Aya…"

"When this mission is over, leave Krittiker. They'll let you go." Aya closed his eyes, unable to look at him any longer. "Leave Japan. Forget you ever knew me and find someone else to love."

"Is that really what you want, Aya?" he whispered. "You want me to _forget_ you?"

"I want you to have happiness and peace – far away from Krittiker. They'll never let me go, Yohji. That means you have to be far away from me, too."

Aya felt Yohji's warm weight leave him. Opening his eyes, he just had time to view his love's retreating back before the man stormed from the room, slamming the door after himself.

* * *

"He should have forgotten about it."

A few words, spoken quietly and probably not meant to be overheard, earned the attention of everyone in the room. When he realized that he had been heard, Yohji looked up.

Aya felt his heart wrench at the expression in his former lover's eyes as the man turned a furious glare on him.

Those eyes were hurt and betrayed and defiant, all at once. That look had nothing whatsoever to do with the current subject of the meeting.

"Because Sena is dragging around memories of his past, Krittiker is able to use him," the blonde clarified bitterly. "If he would have been able to erase his memories, then he could have led a happy, normal life, right?"

Aya refused to drop his eyes, refused to so much as flinch. The meeting continued around them, but Yohji and Aya could not hear it. Trapped in their own world of hurt and loss, they stared at each other and the distance seemed to be miles.

At last Aya moved, nodding very slightly. Yes, Yohji had understood his request. There was no room for misinterpretation. Aya still wanted him to move on.

Fury flashed in the blonde's eyes, and the lanky man looked away quickly.

* * *

To Be Continued

It's the beginning of the end. Four chapters left. It goes downhill from here.

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**GuiltyAmethyst** - Boys in love are always idiots. Boys not in love are idiots, too. Oh well. That's where the expression "eye candy" comes in, I guess.

**Moon without a Sun** - really really

**renee **- thankies

**CaT70** - smutty fluffy love doesn't come till Flood. C'mon. You know that I have to break Yohji.


	9. Breaking

Don't have time to edit this one right now. Please forgive me.

* * *

Yohji had refused to speak to Aya ever since the flower incident, and the crimson haired man was uncertain as to whether his former lover was hurt, or truly furious at him.

They were not supposed to act like they knew each other very well while they were at work, for the sake of their cover, but Aya at last found Yohji's continued silence so unbearable that he had to take the chance and approach him.

He was rewarded for his efforts by a blatantly rude brush-off.

Aya knew that it was better this way. It was foolish to even think about trying to talk to the man he loved again – doing so would only hurt them both.

Nevertheless, they were still Weiss, and Aya was still the leader. They could not afford a break down in communications just because they had a 'history' together.

Reluctantly, Aya tracked Yohji down to the art room. They needed to discuss the mission, though Aya was more than certain that the conversation would eventually twist itself into focusing on their relationship instead.

Despite himself, Aya allowed himself a moment to watch Yohji when he entered the room. He knew that this would be one of the few chances he would ever have again to watch the man unaware and unguarded.

His back to Aya, the blonde was completely concentrated on a painting, focused on it with the single-mindedness only Yohji Kudoh possessed.

Aya violently shoved away the distressing reminder that he had forever abdicated the right to be the center of that man's nearly-obsessive attention. He had nothing but the ability, for a few short moments, to fill his eyes with the sight of the man he would never stop loving.

The sun coming through the windows caused a halo effect on the man's short, gloriously blonde hair. Even through his sweater, Aya could detect the play of muscles along Yohji's shoulders.

Aya closed his eyes, fighting the urge to walk forward and press himself against that strong, dependable back. He could almost imagine that he could feel the warmth of Yohji's skin against his lips, the soft brush of his hair against his cheek.

He must have made some sound because Yohji began to turn around. The redhead quickly schooled his features.

"Tsuji?"

Emerald eyes locked onto him, and Aya had to fight the urge to tremble under the expression that filled those eyes.

"_Aya_…"

An unguarded moment of vulnerability and Aya knew that Yohji still looked on him with love. Yohji would always look on him with love, and nothing either of them did or said would ever change that.

Aya looked at the painting that had held Yohji's attention so spellbound and felt a momentary, bitter flash of something hot and painful.

He would not call is jealousy. He didn't have the right to such an emotion when he had done so much to hurt Yohji, to push him away. He had told him to find someone else to love, and feeling jealousy that he had done so was a monstrous thing.

Still, Aya was nearly sick with the thought.

Yohji had found someone so quickly! He had, in fact, found her _before_ Aya had told him to look.

But it was more than that.

Aya realized that he didn't _want_ Yohji to be with Tsuji. He had to resign himself to the fact that he would find someone else, but he couldn't help but to rebel against the thought of Yohji choosing that woman. It wasn't right.

"She won't make you happy," he blurted, unable to stop himself.

Yohji's eyes flared, losing all appearance of love and longing.

"You don't have the right to say that, Aya."

"I know."

Silence fell between them. Yohji had obviously expected Aya to argue, and was unprepared for his calm agreement.

"You don't even know her," the man accused at last, defiant. "You don't know what she's offered me. How she makes me feel."

"You're right."

"Aya…"

Such pain in Yohji's voice. Such anger and pleading.

"I still don't like her." Aya stated, crossing his arms.

"Now you're gonna choose my lovers?"

Aya snorted softly.

"I don't think so."

"Aya…"

"Don't."

"Aya, it doesn't have to be like this."

"Yes it does."

"I _can't_ love anyone else; I've _tried_!" he pled in anguish. "Can't you see? You're the only one I've been able to love since Asuka!"

"And I'm just as dead as she is."

A knock came at the classroom door then. A student, wanting to ask a question and accidentally interrupting them.

"We need to discuss the mission," Aya said once the student had left. "That's what I came here for."

"_You_ can't stay away from _me_, either." Yohji said with a small, bitter laugh.

"We should go somewhere where we have less chance of being overheard."

Yohji hesitated a long moment before nodding, following silently as Aya led him to the roof.

One look at his former lover and Aya could see how close the man was to breaking. He had never seen the blonde's control so frayed. Yohji's hands were shaking as he shoved them into his pockets, his eyes haunted and desperate.

Aya gave him a moment to find and clutch at control, taking the time to compose himself as well.

He, too, was at his limit.

* * *

"You're a mess," Aya stated quietly after a long stretch of silence. Yohji couldn't help but to give a small laugh at his directness.

"No shit."

"This has more to do with than just me," the man stated as if realizing it for the first time. "What's happened? You can't tell me?"

Once, he thought. When they were lovers. Before they were lovers. When they were nothing more than two strangers tied together by their assassin team, barely restraining the urge to attack each other. Even then it would have been easier to talk to him.

"Aya…" Yohji hesitated. "Have you ever wished you could erase your past?"

Aya's answering voice was cold.

"You can't erase your past."

No doubt the man thought _he_ was the one Yohji wanted to erase. The blonde would never willingly admit that it was his cherished memories of Aya that were all that had kept him from accepting Tsuji's offer. Those memories _hurt_, but he _wanted_ them.

"What if you could?" he asked at last.

"I wouldn't want to."

"Yeah," Yohji nodded. "Right. You're the strong one."

Aya frowned. There had been no bitterness to Yohji's words. Yohji truly thought of Aya as the stronger of the two. He had to be – Yohji never would have had the strength to insist that they stay apart if _Aya_ wanted him.

"We have to carry the burden of our past." Aya stated at last, realizing that Yohji wasn't referring to their murdered relationship. "That's what it means to be a member of Weiss. Yohji…what happened with Tsuji?"

"Nothing," he lied.

"Yohji!"

The blonde refused to look at him. He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair, wanting more than anything to get away from those deep, violet eyes.

"I told you – nothing happened!" he lied again. I'll complete my mission, Aya, and then I'll be gone. Just like you want. So leave me alone."

Aya's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment there was a crack – a chink in the armor.

But attempting to take advantage would only bring them both more pain, Yohji reminded himself. Aya would be pissier – furious, really – once he managed to rebuild the walls he protected himself with.

"I've been rejected enough, love," he whispered. "I just can't take it anymore. If you don't want me, then leave me alone. I can't survive any more of this. I can't see you and remember you and not _have_ you. You can't be in my life if I can't have you!"

"Yohji…"

"As soon as this is over, I'm gone. I leave Weiss. I never see you again. I'll find a way to forget you. Is that what you really want, Aya? You want to be forgotten?"

Aya didn't answer.

"This is the last chance I can give you, Aya." Yohji said quietly, looking at him at last. "I can't survive another conversation like this. I love you, but you're killing me. I have to stop loving you, or I'll die."

Aya's lips parted, but he said nothing. He was too beautiful, too desirable. He was too precious to Yohji.

"This is your last chance, Aya," he pled, voice breaking.

The man remained silent.

Nodding to himself, Yohji left.

* * *

Aya stared out over the rooftops of the school, and knew that he had at last permanently succeeded in pushing Yohji away.

The man would leave Weiss after the mission. He would be safe and protected. Aya at last had what he wanted.

So why did he feel such pain?

A soft wind picked up, lifting his long braid of hair. Aya felt the sting of tears in his eyes, and cursed himself for his selfishness.

Though Yohji would be safe, Aya had lost him forever.

It had been his plan all along, but never before had it felt so permanent. Deciding on it as a course of action had been painful enough, but nothing compared to the torture of actually seeing his plans carried out.

* * *

Complete silence filled the room. There was simply too much to say, and yet not enough. Weiss was falling apart and they all knew it. Reforming the small family seemed an impossible thing.

Aya could feel the others like tiny stabs of pain all over his body. He could feel it as they fought not to look at him.

The rift in their family was his fault, and they all knew it – even if most of them didn't know the true reason.

Aya refused to look at any of them, unable to stand his own guilt, much less their silent accusations. He was certain that he was doing the right thing, but that didn't stop the doubt or the rising feelings of sickness that rose up within him every time he was forced to see how broken and haggard Yohji was becoming.

What kind of monster did that to the man he loved?

"A room full of depressing people this early in the morning isn't exactly my idea of a good way to spend a Saturday." Ken sighed at last, anger in his voice. He had made it perfectly clear what he thought of what was happening to his team. "This is one hell of a gloomy meeting, isn't it?"

Rex sent him a frown, unhappy with the state of affairs she had found Weiss in.

"Persia will be here soon," she assured him. "Just be patient."

Ken gave a snort of disbelief, staring at the organizer that rested on the coffee table. It was a gift Aya had bought for his coworker, Asami.

But Asami would never need it again.

"An innocent woman is dead – do you really expect him to show up and risk dirtying his _own_ hands?"

"_Ken_!"

"You know it's true!" the brunette shot angrily. "He hasn't bothered to do a damn thing but give us orders this entire time!"

He glanced at Aya, then quickly away, and Aya felt a new pang of guilt. This was _his_ fault, but Ken was blaming Omi. Their youngest teammate had held them together once, but surely he couldn't be expected to continue in that responsibility after so many years!

"Don't you think it's time to quit pretending and being everything out into the open, Rex?" Ken demanded. "He can call me once a decision's been made, but I already know what _my_ decision will be."

"Sit down, Siberian."

Aya was fairly certain that everyone in the room, himself included, jumped at the sound of that familiar voice. Aya stared along with the others as Omi came down the stairs into the basement.

"I'm not afraid to say it face-to-face, _Persia-san_," Ken sneered with a glare. "I'm disappointed in you!"

Omi only smiled at him. There was a definite distance in his eyes that had never been there before.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Ken. You know you'll always be a brother to me."

"But you've got a new family now, don't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"This all is just a funny way to treat your brothers, don't you think?"

Another vague smile.

"Ken…Aya…Yotan. I've made a very important decision, and I think you all deserve to know about it."

He looked at each of them in turn, something sad and dark in his eyes. He knew as much as any of them how much they'd lost.

"I've chosen to live my life as Mamoru Taketori," he said at last. "Omi Tsukiyono is no more."

* * *

Mamoru watched each of his friends – his brothers – as he told them of the decision he'd made. He watched Aya's eyed darken at the name of Teketori, and knew that that friendship, at least, may be lost forever.

"I can't walk the same path as Weiss anymore!" he continued, spreading his hands and pleading for them to understand. "And…I'm afraid that my path will never cross yours again."

Aya was glaring at him, but Yohji refused to so much as glance his way. Sena couldn't decide where to direct _his_ eyes.

Ken, however…

Ken was very pale, his large eyes filled with disbelief.

Mamoru forced himself to meet Aya's gaze. Strangely enough, Aya was the one the most likely to understand – but only if he could bring himself to see past his hatred of the Taketori name.

"Even if it brings me pain and suffering, I will walk my path alone," he continued. "I need your help for one last thing though."

He paused a moment, heart breaking, to look at his friends. He wanted to remember them, the way they had been. No matter what happened in the next few days, he would still have his memories.

"In order to kill the last remnants of the Omi Tsukiyono who lives inside me, I need your help on one last mission."

* * *

Ken was the first to arrive.

After everyone agreed to do the mission, they decided to leave separately and meet in a parking garage near their target.

Ken felt literally sick. Dread was pressing down on him like a physical weight. There was something…wrong…about the night. Something that made it seem as if this night was the catalyst of all nights and that, once it was over, things would never again be the same.

But then, Ken had been feeling uneasy ever since Om…since _Mamoru_ had walked through that door.

The brunette shook his head, trying to banish those thoughts. He didn't have much luck at it. Optimism had become a difficult thing for him.

Leaning back against his car, the athlete allowed himself a moment. His hands moved of their own accord, drawing from his pocket a much faded and creased photograph of a dark haired young woman with large, laughter-filled eyes.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Miyo," he confessed quietly.

As always, the photo offered no advice.

The sound of a car alerted him to the fact that one of the others was coming. He had the picture safely tucked away by the time Aya's car pulled up next to his.

He couldn't help but to gape at his leader as the man got out of the car.

"What?" Aya demanded, voice cold enough to alert Ken to the fact that it was "Abyssinian" he was now speaking to.

"Your hair…"

The pale man's hand reached absently to touch the shorn crimson locks that had obviously been hacked away with a blade.

"It all ends tonight, Ken."

"You feel it, too?"

A sharp nod.

They grew silent and remained that way as the others arrived. When Yohji saw Aya's hair, he stared a long moment, but looked away without saying a word.

The blonde looked…ill.

"Can you do this, Yohji?" Aya asked suddenly, surprising them all.

The blonde snorted, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

"Are you asking because you care about me, or the mission?"

He didn't give Aya time to respond.

"Let's just get this over with," he muttered, turning away.

* * *

Aya felt shaken. Almost, dare he say, frightened. That damned Esset operative had pointed a gun at his head and he hadn't even attempted to get out of the way.

Were it not for the unexpected yet timely arrival of the boy once known as Prodigy, of Schwarz, Aya's life would have ended while he stood there waiting for it to happen.

Why hadn't he moved? Had he really been so eager to die? Did his hatred for himself really go so far that he would sit there and allow – no, _welcome_ – his end?

The bodies of the Esset operative and his z-class students lay littered across the ground, yet all that mattered to Aya was the feel of his former lover's eyes boring into the back of his head.

Of course, Yohji _would_ be the one to realize that Aya could have moved, but hadn't.

"You okay?" Aya asked coldly, ready for the inevitable confrontation. Yohji would yell, try to embrace him, demand to know how he could be so reckless with his life.

But Yohji wouldn't even look at him.

"I'm fine," the blonde stated.

Aya stared a moment longer before forcing himself to turn away. This was a mission; they had no time to spare on their fucked up relationship.

And how sick was he to be hurt that Yohji wasn't yelling at him?

Aya took two steps away before he heard a whistling sound and then, abruptly, felt the sharp bite of wire around his neck.

* * *

To Be Continued

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**Kitsuneonna07** - and knowing that there's one more person means everything. Thanks for reading!

**Moon without a Sun** - I've said that Flood will make everything better so many times that I'm tired of saying it. The squee will return in due course.

**Kirai **- Thank you very much! (And your English was fine, I promise!)

**CaT70** - Awww. I'm sorry. (sniffles)

**Fireaway** - All I can do is try my best, right?

**GuiltyAmethyst** - Well, theorhetically speaking, there should be at least one out there who isn't...but I have yet to meet him. They are so pretty to look at though...


	10. Hope

Writing this series has revealed to me many truths about my own writing style. In most of the things I write, it is the relationship between the characters, and not actual events, that takes precedence. Maybe one day when I'm more patient I'll return to this fic to fix the weak points – the parts where I just brushed over the things that didn't have anything to do with Yohji and Aya's relationship. As for now, I can't write those parts, because I simply don't care about them.

So this is a chapter that I'm not entirely happy with, and I'm afraid that those of you who aren't familiar with the end of the series may be a little lost. This chapter is meant to go along with the events in the anime, not replace them. Sorry for the weakness.

I should also mention this: Much of the dialogue (not all, but a good portion of it) comes directly from the anime. There was no need to change it.

* * *

A whistling through the air and the sudden, sharp bite of wire around his neck.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

"Don't move!" Yohji's voice shook, and so did the arm which held the wire. His eyes were large and panicked. "I can't let you go, so just…back down!"

So much desperation, so much tension.

So much…pain.

"What's going on, Yohji?" he asked again, fighting to keep any sharpness from his voice. He could feel the others around them, frozen with surprise, and he felt a stab of guilt.

So he had truly succeeded in breaking Yohji this time.

"Yohji, take a moment to think," he pressed gently. "You know, don't you? We can't do this. One of us will die if we do this."

"I'm already dead," he answered hollowly.

The wire tightened.

"Yohji, calm down." Ken coaxed as Aya winced. The brunette approached cautiously, hands held out in a pacifying manner. "You're under a lot of stress right now, but there will be plenty of time for you to work this out after the mission."

"I'm going to be reborn!" Yohji answered, eyes wet with unshared emotions. "I'm going to leave Weiss, forget everything, and become a new person!"

"With the cursed powers of Esset?" Aya demanded.

"What do you care, Aya, as long as it takes me out of your life. You don't love me anymore." Yohji's voice broke. His hands trembled and the wire tightened. Aya felt a small trickle of blood. "Anyway, there can't be a curse worse than the one you've put _me_ under!"

"You think it's that easy?" he asked softly. "You think that if they fiddle with your head and you forget everything, forget _me_, that that will be it? Do you think you can be _happy_ fooling yourself?"

"Is that not _allowed_, Aya?" he demanded. "You change the rules so _fucking_ much that I can't even keep up anymore! So I'm not allowed to fool myself?"

The tears in his eyes spilled over, his anguish growing too great for him to hide it.

"I don't want to fight or kill or betray someone – or _be_ betrayed by anyone!" he continued, voice breaking. "Tell me why we have to suffer like this, Aya! I don't know why I'm fighting anymore, and I'm _fucking_ sick of it! I don't want to hurt anymore, lover; I've had enough!"

"Yohji…" Omi whispered. "_Don't_…"

"Is this where we wanted to be?" Yohji demanded, seeming to be able to see and hear only Aya. "Is this how we wanted it to be? _Say something, Aya!_"

Silently, the redhead raised his sword. His hands were trembling, and tears were stinging his eyes.

Yohji smiled, a feral and desperate expression.

"Good!" he whispered, nodding sharply. "That's more like it!"

"I don't want to do this, Yohji. Please don't make me kill you!"

The blonde smiled and Aya realized that _that_ had been his former lover's plan all along. Tsuji was just a back up plan; Yohji fully expected Aya to win this confrontation – and end his life.

"This is what I need to do."

Taking a deep breath, Aya moved his sword, slicing into the wire. Yohji took a step backwards, prepared for attack, as Aya readied his sword for battle.

"The rest of you go!" Aya ordered, voice a rasp. "This is between Yohji and me alone!"

* * *

Aya was strong and beautiful. Everything he had ever wanted.

Everything he could never have.

"Come on, lover. Let your face be the last thing I see."

The mask had at last fallen away from Aya. Yohji could see the pain in his eyes; he could see all the things the man would never say.

"I'll die loving you. Or you'll die, and I'll forget everything. I'd rather have it be the first, so don't disappoint me, okay?"

"Yohji…"

The blonde attacked, and Aya blocked.

He did not attempt to counter.

"Damn it, Aya! Stop being so stubborn for once in your life!" he screamed, frustrated. "Attack me!"

"I _can't_, Yohji!" Aya's voice cracked. There was no mistaking the tears in his eyes.

"Damn it, Aya!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so selfish! But if I kill you, then you're the only one who'll have peace. What do you think it would do to me if I ended your life?"

"It couldn't be any worse than what you've put _me_ through!" he smiled.

"I can't. You'll have to kill me instead."

"You…you think I can't do it?"

"I _want_ you to do it, Yohji. End both of our misery."

They stared at each other for a long while, each knowing he could not hurt the other.

"Tsuji could take your memory, too." Yohji offered shakily. "We could be together again."

"I'd rather die than lose myself, Yohji."

He nodded.

"I love you."

"I know."

Yohji leapt at him and Aya prepared to meet him. He couldn't help but to think that it would be a great thing indeed to die by the hand of the one he loved.

Better than he deserved, anyway.

Before the finishing blow could come, an explosion rocked the entire area. Yohji found himself flying backwards away from Aya.

He thought he could hear the man calling his name.

Blackness closed in around him.

* * *

He awoke to disorientation, a dull pain all over his body. He knew that Aya was long gone, and with a moment's bitterness wondered if his ex lover had even tried to find him to confirm that he was all right before going on to finish his precious mission.

"It's not over, Aya," he swore, picking himself up off the ground. There was a moment where he was dizzy, but he ignored it and it passed. His every muscle protested movement, but he forced them into submission anyway and entered the building, intent on finding and settling things with Aya.

The man had to kill him; there was just no other way. Yohji couldn't live with himself any longer. Forgetting was always an option, but he still clung so desperately to the memories of their time together that he knew instinctively that it would not work.

And he would never be able to hurt Aya, not really.

He would attack, and fall upon Aya's sword when he raised it to defend himself.

Maybe they would meet in the next life. Maybe they could find happiness there.

His memories of Asuka were all frowning at him. She had sent Aya to him so that he would be happy, and he had proven himself unworthy of her gift. He had squandered the happiness and was now left with nothing, and She disapproved greatly.

"What am I supposed to do then, Asuka?" he demanded.

She didn't answer.

* * *

He soon found himself in a lab that would have fit in perfectly with the darkest of horror films. Meat – pieces of people – floated in an eerie peace in test tubes. Yohji had been feeling sick _before_ the gruesome sight. Now he could barely keep his feet.

"What the hell is this place?" he asked the still-silent Asuka, stumbling to a computer panel and leaning against it. There was a window leading out to a room below, and Yohji could heat the voice of a woman drifting up from it. There was something familiar about the voice. Something…

Lightning went off in his brain as he realized it was Tsuji he was hearing. Something about computers and gods…

Yohji pushed himself to see out the window and his eyes widened at the sight of the lone man who stood facing off against his current lover.

"What gives you the right to play with human life?" the angry, cold voice of Aya Fujimiya rang out like the striking of a bell. The man was almost literally bristling with fury. He was beautiful the way a feline about to strike is beautiful – so dangerous as to be impossible to look away from. No one would ever call him delicate when he was so angry. "You had the first Todo murdered just because he had served his purpose, didn't you?"

Tsuji laughed, the sound eerie and completely mad.

"Don't you ever throw out _old_ things, Fujimiya?" she taunted. "Didn't you get rid of Kudoh once you were tired of him? You're just upset that he stopped pining over you. Do you think about him in my arms? Does it bother you? I hope so."

Silent, Aya raised his sword.

Tsuji laughed again.

"Come now Fujimiya, don't be so petulant! Think on it – we can reset your memory and you can be born anew, without old lovers to haunt you! Isn't that what you want?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me. You're so easy to read when you're angry!"

"Despite the pain they bring me, my memories make me who I am. There is not one I would trade!" he informed her. His voice was dark with pain and fury; however it was still so strong. Aya always spoke like a man whose word should be taken as law. "I've taken life and hurt those I loved above all else – the least I can do is give them the honor of remembering them until my last breath! I _will_ take responsibility for my life!"

He took a step toward Tsuji and the madwoman took an involuntary step back, some sanity returning to her eyes as she realized that she may be in peril.

"If I have no memories – no _soul_ – then I might as well _be_ dead!" Aya snarled.

* * *

Aya was trembling, and if he wasn't sure if it was from pain or anger, then so be it. He had never felt more tired; he had never in his life wanted so desperately to give up.

But he was stubborn. He would not do it.

He would not – because though he was hurt and tired, he had never been so angry in his life, either.

He needed to hurry; he knew that. The explosion that had interrupted his fight with Yohji had been a clear message from his old team, the Crashers. The building would be coming down soon, and he needed to make haste to get his team out.

He'd left Yohji outside where's he'd found him, unconscious but with no visible injury. Aya would retrieve him when Weiss left, and they would even finish what they'd begun or work something out once it was safe to do so.

Their very survival though depended on Aya's ability to get them out in time.

Yet still he found himself here, arguing with this woman because he was too blinded by hatred to move.

She, too, had been Yohji's lover. That was reason enough to hate.

But she had twisted him, manipulated his mind in a time when he needed to be healing. Yohji could have gotten over Aya's rejection if it hadn't been for this woman.

"Stupid man!" she whispered with a smile.

In a flash she seemed to almost disappear; she moved too quickly for Aya to follow. He prepared himself to be hurt, timing his strike to occur after hers had fallen – in that one moment when she would be most vulnerable.

There was a whistling through the air and suddenly Tsuji's attack stopped. She stood before him once more, a look of shock on her face. Her movement had been halted by the sharp bite of the wire which had wrapped itself around her arm.

"Can't let you get away with that!" Yohji informed her cheekily, stepping from the shadows.

The blonde met Aya's eyes, love and regret and apology all plain in his emerald gaze.

"Yohji…"

"I want to live, Aya, love." he said quietly. "When this is all over…we'll work something out, okay?"

"Yohji…" he whispered again.

"Let me deal with Tsuji on my own. I need to do this. You go and find the others."

Aya hesitated. The thought of leaving Yohji there alone was unbearable.

But he had to finish this mission, and quickly, or all was lost.

He couldn't bring himself to tell Yohji that he still loved him. He didn't deserve to do that to him when there was so much that could go wrong.

Neither could he just leave.

"Don't you _dare_ die!" he glared.

Yohji smiled a little then, eyes darkening with even more love as they lost that hesitance that meant that he had been fearing rejection – or even anger – over what had transpired outside.

Aya held his gaze a moment later, trying to silently tell him everything he could not say aloud, before giving him a slow, tight nod.

He sheathed his blade and took off at a run. How much time did they have left? Was it even _possible_ for them to still make it out in time?

Aya ran, and he prayed silently as he did so that his team made it out in time.

* * *

"Wait up!"

Tsuji rounded furiously on the blonde assassin, nearly too angry to see straight. Esset intelligence had told her of the man's involvement with the leader of Weiss, and she had heard him call Fujimiya's name in his sleep many times.

But seeing them both at once…Kudoh attacking _her_ and calling that _man_ his love…!

She was _livid!_

"Do you want to die so badly?" she demanded. She'd wanted this man so badly! Wanted him at her side, to play father to the children she would create.

This man. So strong and vibrant and beautiful.

And he had chosen _Fujimiya_?

The man smiled, eyes bright with confidence and hope in a way she'd never seen.

"I told you," he informed her. "I'm going to live!"

She snarled silently and her child, her beautiful, perfect godling, stepped forward.

"Break." the clone of Todo ordered softly.

Kudoh screamed, falling to one knee, his leg now broken.

"Now, _fly_."

Tsuji laughed in elation as the man flew backwards and slammed into the wall.

When he hit the ground, he did not move again.

* * *

To Be Continued

Two chapters left.

**Response to Unsigned Reviews**:

**GuiltyAmethyst** - (innocent whistling)

**CaT70** - I'll try my best

**KitsuneOnna07** - thanks

**MM** - I'm sorry; I don't understand the question...


	11. Please

This chapter is just like the last one. It's going to be confusing as hell for those unfamiliar with Gluhen. Geez. What the hell was I thinking? Would it help if I said that the rest of the plot doesn't matter – just Yohji and Aya?

The good news? It's a very short chapter. That's why it's out so quickly. It was, in fact, going to be out yesterday but there were...technical difficulties.

Yeah. I still hate this chapter. (But the next one is one of my favorites!)

* * *

A mother who would kill her only child.

A child who would not lift a finger to save himself.

"I'm sorry, Aya…I'm sorry I couldn't kill my mother."

He watched the life flood from the young boy's eyes, watched him grow unnaturally still. He had wanted to help the boy, and in the same process give his own soul some healing.

He had failed miserably.

"Kill me."

The voice of Fumie Kisaragi was a harsh rasp, her skin pale and sickly as she watched Aya carefully arrange the limbs of her only son, giving him the appearance of peaceful slumber.

"You came to kill me, right?" she demanded. "Then do it! Kill me, Weiss."

* * *

Mamoru stopped short at the sight that greeted him as he entered the room. He could do nothing but stare at the bodies on the ground.

"Sena…" he said quietly.

Ken's voice was uncharacteristically subdued.

"I guess we didn't make it in time," he said.

The brunette suddenly made a strange noise and grew unnaturally still, staring at something in the room, and Mamoru touched his arm gently in concern.

"Ken?

"I've felt this before…" the dark haired assassin whispered, eyes large. "It's here."

He began to run before Mamoru had the chance to further question, and the younger assassin could only follow.

The two stopped short as they reached Aya, who stood before a very large computer.

"It's Epitaph." Aya informed them, the only indication he gave that he had noticed their presences.

"This computer system is _Epitaph_?"

"Indeed!"

A laugh filled the air. Beside him, Aya stiffened at the sight of Mayumi Tsuji.

"Fumie was nothing more than a synthetic human computer – a creation of this machine!" Tsuji's eyes sought out Aya and she smiled slowly, coldly.

Ken was the first to understand the nature of her silent taunt.

"What have you done with Yohji?" he demanded as Aya's hands grew white-knuckled on his sword.

The bitch kept her eyes locked on the leader of Weiss.

"Gone!" she answered flippantly. "He simply didn't cut it. He was too _weak_ to be even a warm up for my precious child!"

* * *

Ken had never seen Aya so pale, nor so angry. The man's expression was simply murderous as he listened to Tsuji argue with Epitaph over the creation of her god-children.

"We won't allow this!" he shouted at last, interrupting the argument.

Tsuji snarled at them.

"They're in the way," the Todo clone stated.

Ken felt his legs being swept out from under him as he and the others were blown backwards. Om…_Mamoru_ fired at the creature, only to have the bolt reversed and slammed into his shoulder.

Before anything else could happen, a second explosion shook the building.

Ken clung to the floor, attempting to ride the blast as he formed a plan. The moment the building stopped shaking, Ken was on his feet and rushing to the creature. He grabbed it tightly and covered its mouth with his hand.

If the clone couldn't speak, it couldn't attack.

"Aya!" he screamed. "Drive your sword through him!"

The man hesitated and Ken tightened his hold on the creature.

"_Do it_! Don't worry about me!"

A tight nod, a determined twist to that stubborn mouth.

Aya charged.

Though Ken had thought himself ready, there was no preparing himself for the searing pain of the bite of the sword. He lost his grip as the clone began to scream, knocking both him and Aya away.

The "all-powerful" creature could not recover from the blow.

Moments after Aya's attack, it self-destructed.

Aya was clearly nearing the very edge of his control, very clearly enraged. He'd lost two teammates and been forced to injure a third. He barely seemed to notice the creature's destruction as he leveled his sword at Tsuji.

"This is the end," he informed her.

"_End_?" she laughed, her eyes wild. "I told you – with my cloning technology, I can create as many of these children as I desire!"

Aya's eyes narrowed dangerously and Ken knew that the man was already picturing the woman's blood on his blade.

Another tremor shook the building and some small hint of sanity returned to Tsuji's eyes as she realized that her data was in danger of destruction. She fled before Aya has the chance to attack.

He took a step forward, obviously wanting to follow, then hesitated and glanced back at Om – Mamoru and Ken.

"Hurry Aya!" Ken urged painfully. "Don't worry about me – go and stop the bitch!"

The man didn't need further encouragement.

* * *

"Is _this_ what you're after?"

Yohji Kudoh smiled to himself as Tsuji spun to face him, glad that he had fought the pain and the desire to give up in order to find the woman's beloved data.

He hadn't imagined he would receive the wonderfully satisfying gift of being able to destroy said data before her very eyes.

"How does it feel to lose something dear to you?" he demanded as he let the ruined remains of the disk fall to the ground.

He didn't see her move.

But he felt it when her kick connected.

And then there was only pain.

Her hand closed around his throat and she lifted him up off the ground, slamming him backwards into the wall.

He hurt everywhere, each breath was a struggle. She was going to crush his windpipe if she tightened her grip by even the smallest bit.

"_Yohji!_"

He opened his eyes, fighting the darkness threatening to close in around him.

There, across the expanse of the ruined lab, stood his Aya. His angel. Too beautiful for words, too wonderful to be real.

The man was pale and clearly terrified, obviously terrified – but still so very _strong_.

Holding Yohji's disbelieving eyes, he raised his sword and threw it.

Yohji didn't hesitate.

Reaching, straining, Yohji's fingertips at last brushed the hilt of the sword. Somehow he managed to get a hold on it.

He struck and killed Tsuji in one movement.

Fighting pain and dizziness, Yohji stared at Aya, filling his eyes with the sight of the man he loved.

An explosion wracked the building.

"Yohji!"

Ken and Omi had reached Aya at last. His team suddenly seemed impossibly far away.

"You all go!" he shouted to them, knowing that the building wouldn't stay standing for much longer. He couldn't bear the thought of his team, his _Aya_, losing their lives here.

"We can't leave you!" Omi argued.

Swallowing hard, Yohji fought to keep his tone light.

"Are you _crying_, Omi?" he teased. "I'll be right behind you guys!"

"Don't be an idiot, Yohji!" Ken called back. "We have to go home together!"

Yohji looked at Aya – at the cold, pale beauty of him.

Were those tears in the man's eyes?

He knew it wasn't his imagination as he watched his love mouth one word.

_Please_.

"Yeah," Yohji agreed, holding Aya's eyes. "I mean, I have to return your sword, right, Aya?"

The man nodded, love in his eyes shining full and unabashed.

"I'll make it home," Yohji promised. "Home is where you are…and we aren't finished yet."

_We're not. I swear we're not_. Aya mouthed.

"I'm coming home. I am Weiss."

_I'll be waiting._ Aya promised.

Yohji smiled.

Another shudder shook the building, and the roof at last began to cave in.

Blackness incased him.

* * *

When Yohji awoke he found himself in a small pocket of air, pinned down by rubble. His head was a great, throbbing pain.

Black spots dotted his vision and he found he couldn't move. Nausea swam through him as he tried to calculate how much damage had been done to him.

He thought he heard a voice calling him before he blacked out again.

* * *

Smoke curled lazily in the sky as the sun began its slow ascent into the heavens. Was it the sun or the dying flames that had consumed the building that made the sky such a brilliant color?

Maybe it was the mere fact that he had survived the night.

Aya only paused for a moment to view the charred remains of the Esset research laboratory. He couldn't bear the sight of it against the breathtaking backdrop of a newborn day.

All it served to do was remind him of what he'd lost.

The body of a boy who had been like a brother lay forgotten in those remains. It may never be found.

The remains of all his good intentions lay there as well, stripped away to reveal with painful clarity the time he had wasted, the hurt he had caused.

He didn't even notice it as he reached up to finger a wound on his neck – the delicate crust of dried blood from where he had been kissed by the wire.

Aya had only intended to pause for a moment. He was in a hurry.

But he was also tired, and weak, and pushing himself to breaking could possibly cause more harm than a short rest.

A quiet moan assured him that his companion was still with him – that his search had not been in vain.

He'd dug through the rubble until his fingers bled, swearing all the while that he would _not_ leave alone.

And he'd begged, begged like he'd never done before, that Yohji Kudoh was still alive.

Every muscle in his body protested as he placed one of Yohji's limp, unresponsive arms around his shoulder and lifted him up. Getting him to the car would be _so_ difficult.

But no doubt easier than getting up the hill with him had been.

"Hang on, Yohji," he pled, unsure as to whether or not he was even speaking out loud anymore. "Hang on, love. I promise…I_ promise_…!"

* * *

To Be Concluded

Wince. Yeah. Reallllllllly hate this chapter, and I apologize that you had to read it. I'll go back and rewrite it one day. For now, if you want something more furfilling, get your hands on the last episodes of Gluhen.

**Response to Unsigned Reviews:**

**fractured dreams** - chapter 12 will be better than this! I promise!

**zojirushi** - You're more than entitled to your opinions, doll; however, please remember that the bottom line is that when it comes right down to it, I can write whatever pleases me. I share with readers because I want other writers to share with me, not because I want to be told how to write the story.

**JB** - Hmm...I guess I can tell you that it doesn't end exactly like Gluhen. There's a Kit original twist to it. There's some stuff in the next chapter that will make everyone extremely happy...but there's also something that made me cry while writing it - and I never cry. Just remember that there's a sequel coming.

**GuiltyAmethyst** - Did I answer your question? (grin)


	12. For the Best

"Nh…Aya?"

Ther other cars had still been there when Aya had reached the parking garage. Omi had called for a helicopter to take him and Ken as soon as they had left the Esset base – Ken had needed a hospital badly and they could not have afforded to wait. Aya understood that.

But now he planned to break every speed limit in Japan.

Yohji had moaned his name several times in his pained delirium, but this time when Aya chanced a glance in the rearview mirror he found the man in his backseat awake.

"Don't try to sit up," he warned, voice shaking a little. "You…you're hurt pretty badly, Yohji…"

"Man…I hurt like hell." Yohji somehow managed a small chuckle, raising his arm to cover his eyes. "My…_head_…"

"Lay quiet, Yohji. I'll get you to the hospital."

Silence filled the car for a while. Aya fought to keep his hands from shaking on the wheel, fought to keep from sobbing with relief.

"I had the strangest dream, love." Yohji said at last, each word a struggle. "I dreamt that you stopped loving me…Isn't that crazy, baby?"

"Crazy," he agreed quietly.

"Stop the car, bunny thong."

"I need to get you to a doctor, Yohji."

"Don't I know it. Stop the car; I wanna sit next to you."

"Yohji…"

"_Aya_."

He swallowed, finding it impossible to argue.

Against his better judgment, Aya pulled over and got out of the car, hurrying to the back and pulling the door open.

His eyes widened at the sight of Yohji.

The man was deathly pale, his hair matted and red with blood – much of it looking fresh.

"Yohji…I'm not sure I should move you…" he whispered.

"You don't help me, and I'll move myself."

The words were typical Yohji, but now it was clear how much speaking was costing him. He was too pale, his lips nearly white.

But he would argue until he got his way.

As quickly as was safe, Aya helped the man he loved into the front passenger seat and, once there, used the opportunity to examine the wound on the blonde's head.

"I don't like this, Yohji."

"Yeah," he breathed, leaning back in his seat. His hands were shaking, his skin deathly pale. He was having more difficulty speaking now. "Yeah…me neither."

"Don't speak anymore, Yohji, _please_."

Yohji stared into his eyes a moment before nodding. Aya brushed his lips quickly against his lover's before hurrying to get back into the car.

The moment he was back in the driver's seat, he reached for Yohji's hand.

They drove for a mile or two in silence, Aya gripping Yohji's hand and chancing a glance at him every moment or so.

"Don't go to sleep, Yohji!"

The blonde's eyelashes fluttered.

"You're so bossy, bunny thong…"

"Yohji…"

A quiet laugh. Yohji briefly, weakly, squeezed Aya's hand.

"Talk to me and I won't fall asleep."

"Yohji…"

"What? You…can't think of anything nice to say?"

Aya was silent for a moment.

"The problem is that there's too _much_ to say…" he answered at last, quietly. "Yohji…Yohji, I love you so _much_…"

"Shit. Now I know I'm dead."

"I am so sorry, Yohji."

"Don't…don't say things you'll have to take back later."

Aya's hand tightened on the steering wheel.

"I won't take it back," he swore. "I love you. I'm sorry. No more lies, Yohji. I love you. I never stopped loving you."

"Tell me something I don't know." Yohji gave a laugh, but it was strained and weak.

"We'll talk later." Aya promised. "You need to save your strength."

"No. I want to talk about it now. Give…give me a reason…a reason to keep fighting."

He chanced another glance at him. Yohji was still too pale and his hand had grown cold.

"I don't have a reason, Yohji, except for the selfish desire to be with you. I love you. I'm sorry for hurting you. I…"

"You were trying to protect me."

"Yes."

"Stupid."

Despite himself, Aya felt tears fill his eyes.

"You're right!" he agreed with a weak laugh.

"I'm gonna…remember this…next time we fight. You're gonna…have years of 'I told you so's'…to look forward to."

"I'll gladly take every last one of them, Yohji, but you have to live, okay?"

A harsh laugh.

"I said I would…didn't I?"

"Yohji…I…"

He glanced at his companion and felt all the warmth drain from his body.

"Yohji…"

"It's not…that bad…love."

A small smile, eyes filled with love.

Still, Yohji looked terrible. He was too white, too cold. He'd lost too much blood.

"Don't talk anymore, Yohji. You need to rest and conserve your strength. Concentrate on fighting for your life…think of all the things I'll let you do to me out of guilt."

Yohji opened his mouth to comment, then thought better of it. He tried to nod, and that didn't work out very well, either.

Finally he managed a small smile and waggled his eyebrows.

Aya felt like crying.

Only Yohji Kudoh could come on to someone while hovering at death's door.

* * *

"Aya? Thank the gods. You're all right? Where's Yohji? Where are you?"

Aya blinked tired eyes, his mind taking a moment to catch up to Omi's – no, Mamoru's – questions.

"Are you at Magic Bus Hospital?" he asked at last.

"Yes; Ken jut got out of surgery. Ayan – where are you?"

"I'm about two miles away; I've got Yohji with me. Omi…it doesn't look good."

"Oh, _Ayan_…"

"Can you have everything ready by the time I get there?"

"Consider it done, Ayan."

* * *

Mamoru stopped short in the waiting room doorway, staring at the man within.

He'd never dreamed it was possible for Aya Fujimiya, the strong and dependable leader of the white hunters, to appear so bowed, broken, and weak.

He sat with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Though he had been told that Yohji could be in surgery for hours, he had refused to go home and sleep, or even just go home and clean himself up.

"Ayan…"

Aya jerked, looking up. He was paler than usual, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted.

"Omi…" he rasped, rising quickly.

Mamoru bit his bottom lip. Aya truly loved Yohji – that much was clear. Members of Weiss had been injured before, but this was the first time it had affected Aya this way.

"Ayan…I'm _so_ sorry…"

"No!"

"…There was nothing they could do."

"_No!_"

Aya rushed for the door, but Omi caught him, holding him as his former leader collapsed into desperate sobs.

* * *

Mamoru entered the room quietly, closing the door softly behind himself and leaning against it. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"Omi?"

Doctors had had to come in an d give Aya tranquillizers just to calm him. He was now three rooms over, sleeping peacefully.

"Omi? What's wrong, chibi?"

Opening his eyes, Mamoru Taketori looked at the figure in the bed and reminded himself that his work wasn't finished yet.

Yohji's surgery had been a complete success; the doctors said that they had never seen a body so willing to heal. Even now it was miraculous how much color had returned to the blonde man's skin, how strong his voice sounded.

"Where's Aya?"

"Aya is…resting."

"Good. Yeah…man doesn't know how to take care of himself." Somehow Yohji managed a small laugh. "Help me sit up, will you, chibi?"

"The doctors said that wasn't a good idea, Yotan."

"Quacks."

Despite himself, Mamoru smiled. He crossed the room and took a seat in the chair next to the bed.

"I know I'll be in a hell of a lot of pain once these meds wear off, but don't let them give me anything else, all right, chibi? I don't want to sleep until after I've seen Aya."

"Yohji…I've come to say goodbye."

"Omi?"

"You have to understand! You and Ayan hurt each other _so_ much…! You love each other, I know you do, but it will _never_ work between you! You'll just keep hurting each other worse and worse forever and ever!"

"It's the sweetest torture I know," he answered with a small, boyish smile. "One day, _you'll_ fall in love. Then you'll understand."

"No, Yohji. You've suffered long enough. You both have."

"We'll decide when to call it quits, chibi. We're grown-ups."

He shook his head.

"Ayan will be able to survive losing you…he's strong. I know he'll be all right."

"Omi? What…what's going on?"

"I'm going to give you what you wanted, Yotan. So…this is goodbye. You'll never see me – or Aya or Ken – again…and if you do, you won't know who we are. You'll finally have the peace you deserve. The chance to forget."

"Omi, what are you…?"

Mamoru rose as he heard the door open.

"Yohji, this young woman is one of Krittiker's strongest telepaths," he informed him as the woman entered the room.

Rina Willans was tall and darkly tenned, with long, sleek black hair and cool gray eyes. She presented a very professional figure as she took the chair Mamoru had vacated.

"Omi?"

Gods, this was painful.

But it had to be done.

It was the only way his beloved family could find happiness.

"Make sure he remembers nothing, Rina." Mamoru requested, ignoring his friend's plea.

"No! Omi! _No!_"

"Yes sir, Taketori-san." Rina agreed, bowing her head.

"Omi, you can't do this! _Please_! Don't make me forget him! Omi!"

Mamoru paused in the doorway, fighting tears.

"I'm sorry, Yotan. But this really is for the best."

"Omi!"

"Goodbye, Yotan."

* * *

The End

(Wince) You can start sending in the hate mail now. This was actually one of my favorite chapters.

Be sure to keep an eye out for the last fic in this arc, Flood, coming soon. Unless you're too furious at me to read it. Thanks for coming this far, anyway.

Kit


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